


There's a Storm You're Starting

by cybertronisdeadandsoarewe



Series: It's Still a Mystery To Me [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Light BDSM, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mech Preg, Multiple Orgasms, Optimus Prime is a hedonist, Praise Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Smut, Soundwave gives advice, Sparklings, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Um., Unplanned Pregnancy, also, im fucking sorry i dont know what happened, megatron is just figuring out the possession thing, past possession, tags to be edited because im not sure what to tag so there it goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-05-02 20:05:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5261720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybertronisdeadandsoarewe/pseuds/cybertronisdeadandsoarewe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the war drags on too long the leaders of two factions have a bad idea that changes everything. Primus is a drunk absentee deity who solves problems with unplanned pregnancy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Every Time you Think you Have Control

 

Another battle, again the tedious pattern repeats, again blaster fire steaks and impacts plating and today, yet again the leaders of two factions circle each other, blades drawn fusion cannon and blasters charged and angry, frustrated insults at the ready. Megatron sneers across at the Prime- the indecisive, irritating Prime. The Prime he has to work to convince himself is not will never be his Orion, the Prime who took the center of his world from him as sparks fly off sharp blades.

But Primus. His Optics are the same no matter that this is Optimus, that this mech had used his lover’s frame and that there wasn’t enough Orion to save- even if Orion were to apologize for his betrayal on the senate floor.  
He sees a flash of blue- and pink and swings his blade to the side in time to block a distracting kick from Arcee, as Prime disengages. There’s a sinking in his tanks as he realizes that their raid on this mine must have been a complete success- it's bare as he watches Optimus and Arcee speed around the corner, over aware that any attempt to fly in the tight quarters of the tunnels would only end in making a fool of himself as he growls in irritation, opening a secure com line. **Soundwave, what did the Autobots take?**  
**Energon: near 2 joors worth if rationed. Three vehicons, 5 eradicons: terminated. Drones: retrofitted non combatant class. Culprit: Autobot scout, Arcee. Mines Medbay: gutted. Supplies: taken.**

The data packet, like many Soundwave had sent since his vow of silence- an event Megatron privately refers to as the tantrum, was short, succinct, and vaguely accusatory. He groans, aware that better supplied Autobots mean better planned, more enthusiastic Autobot missions.  
**Ground bridge me back. I believe I ought to taunt Optimus over the decay of his supposed moral high ground. After all, the soft sparked Prime disapproves of killing civilians.** He orders.

He steps through the ground bridge and heads to his quarters. He growls when he sees the haggard, energon streaked face in the mirror, the dull unhealthy cast of his plating. Perhaps he should listen to Knockout’s nagging if it had gotten this bad- no more dark energon, recharge more, refuel more regularly- he snorts to himself. Recharge? On a ship where Starscream is? Regularly recharge?  
Not if he didn’t want to wake to his own fading spark as a knife strikes through his plating. Not even Soundwave can keep tabs on Starscream that well. Refueling raises similar concerns- poisoning or leaving the bridge in the hands of an unoccupied, traitorous seeker. He starts the solvent shower and scrubs himself vigorously.

This repetitive, frustrating, stalemated war. The loneliness of command.

When he’s as put together and as presentable as he can manage without going to the med bay for a paint job he stalks into the corridors and towards the bridge, vehicons and eradicons shrinking against the walls as he approaches. They know better than to approach their lord or get too close when he felt introspective. When he reaches the bridge Soundwave respectfully inclins his helm in a half bow. “Begin the transmission.” His subordinate, the mech who’d been his closest friend, inclines his helm and obeys.

He draws his lip plates into a snarling smirk as the Autobots appear on screen, standing stiffly. The two-wheeler and the scout have resolutely flared their winglets. The medic scowls- one scowl that Megatron has had leveled at him since before he was a mech of any real power. Optimus’ brows knit resolutely. As per routine, insults are exchanged. Optimus says he’s lost sight of his goals. He says that Optimus lacks the steel back strut to make any changes. And then the medic draws closer to Optimus and reaches up and strokes a servo down Optimus’ side and settles it on a hip actuator. The mech smiles and looks fondly up at Optimus and cuts the transmission.

He hears a faint shocked whir from Soundwave. A sputtering insulted Starscream begins to rant on the medic’s rudeness from where he’d been standing, well watched, next to the TIC. Megatron is utterly silent as he turns and leaves the bridge. He locks the door to his quarters and lets the rage at seeing the medic’s servos- that filthy medic’s servos on the Prime. On the frame that was once Orion, on those hips when he’d settled claw servos and gently teased the wires just a little to the the left of where Ratchet’s servos had fallen and the sweet moans it graced his audials with. Orion’s optics in Optimus’ faceplates looking back at him, how the soft glow from them and his own lit Orion’s face in the dark of his apartment in Kaon when his matches didn’t leave him enough credits to pay for lights in addition to his energon and rent, but the small sweet archivist never cared, never belittled him. Merely smiled sweetly and lit little, flickering candles around the space. Blowing them out and the smoke curling around his audials- and then let the gladiator gently guide him through the pitch dark apartment to light them when they returned. Soundwave sitting, smirking at them from the couch as he sipped energon in the dark playfully waiting to startle his friend and roommate’s lover.

He dials the familiar personal com., not expecting anything to come of it.

Megatron? Optimus’ voice comes from over the com. and for a moment the warlord sits in shocked silence before the anger at the way the medic had touched the frame that Orion should have walked in loosed his tongue.

 **How the mighty have fallen. An army of three disobedient mecha and a bratty medic who is more invested in continuing the war than healing** , he spits.

 **He has been reprimanded.** Optimus replies stiffly. **Not that it is any concern of yours.**  
Megatron settles slightly, until Optimus continues. **He’s a very good friend. Though I believe cutting the vid com was unprofessional in the extreme, for which I apologize.**

The warlord grits his denta. **And the way he touched you before doing so was Professional?**

There’s a long pause. **Jealousy hardly suits you, Megatron.**

 **Of course not.** He scoffs. **Though it makes a mech wonder if you’ve grown exceedingly, desperately lonely and found yourself in the berth of a mech you first owned as a slave.**

The Prime growls. **Ratchet is my friend. As for lonely? Perhaps. After all we are all rather isolated after the death of Cybertron- and you know well why the planet is dead.**

 **Ah and I’m sure your rusty old medic makes sure to remind you of home.** Megatron bites back, servos clutching into fist.

 **What is it you’re implying Megatron?** Optimus hisses, checking that he’s alone and no one can hear the audible and undignified sounds of annoyance.

 **Nothing, Prime, not a thing. I believe I have been rather.. Direct.** Megatron purrs pleased to have broken the stoic mech's control.

 

 **Ratchet is one of my closest friends. A faithful subordinate. He is nothing more or less than that.** The Prime replies primly.

 **If that is what you say I shall take your word on faith.** Megatron says skeptically.

**Not that it’s in any way your business whether or not I’ve taken the mech to berth a few times.**

Megatron stiffens. **The mighty Prime berths his subordinates? What scandal.**

 **Oh? And Lord Megatron has of course, never done such a thing? Though if rumors are to be believed there’s a line of enthused lovers out your door.** The Prime snaps.

 **Surprisingly enough, my opportunities for a good frag are extremely limited. If you hadn’t noticed the only one who claims I interface with them is Starscream. As if I would be able to stand having a mech who’s tried to kill me hundreds of times under me in my berth. The one place in this war I’m meant to be safe. And the others? Hardly a decent conversation partner among them, much less one who can hold my attention long enough for a good fragging..** Megatron muses- when had he last interfaced? It’s been far too long If he can’t quite seem to recall.

 **I have noticed your troops tend to be a bit.. dim.. or murderous. Often, both.** Optimus concedes.

 **And you still thought I was fragging the lot? After all this time I was under the impression you knew me better.** He says in mock affront.

 **Why do you insist on continuing this pointless war?** Optimus starts, attempting to steer the conversation to something less personal. A long pause follows.

 **Me? I suppose, at best I led my army to forget what it’s like to not be fighting. At worst, because I’m Bored.** The warlord answers evenly.

 **Bored? Bored? You FRAGGER.** Optimus answers, utterly enraged.

 **You don’t hate it. After all, you’re hardly better.** Megaton replies, in an almost distracted tone.

**You should be ashamed. Orion wouldn’t have approved.**

**And how would the mech who destroyed him know any such thing?** Megatron growled back.

Optimus sighs. **He was far from destroyed in the beginning. Even now, it’s hard to fight you. He loves you so much but he has… faded. Continues to fade with every battle. Especially in the beginning, ever blow against you was accompanied by agony and Orion begging for your spark.**

**Oh? I’m inclined to believe you’re lying or far more cold a mech than I thought.**

**Primus ordered me to end the threat you represent. One mech’s love cannot absolve you of your many crimes, and so long as I hold the Matrix, my duty is to end the war.** Optimus intones regretfully.

**Oh? And Orion’s opinion on my inevitable, Primus ordained execution is what then, Prime?**  
**That he will beg to go into the Allspark and even the Pit at your side even if only to be with you again. The Prime chuckles mournfully. He would rather cease to function than be in a world with no Megatron. That thought is to him an unimaginable agony. And with the war over? Standing over a frame that was once Megatronus? The anguish will take us both. Fitting. That when we, to blades honed on each other for so long should fall into the well together.**

**Don’t you dare. I don’t care about you, but Orion’s deactivation will never be anything but… fundamentally wrong. Something every being ought mourn. Even if this war has grown into something beyond my power to stop, I would never wish to see Orion perish for it.** Megatron feels, deep in his spark a moment of despair.

 **Beyond both of our control.** Prime sighs, **But in the brief moments of hope he has, he prays that there will be a miracle, and it can end peacefully.**

They both indulge in a moment of wistful thought, indulge in Orion’s prayer for a moment. Megatron breaks the silence first. **If we were less responsible mecha and I were younger, I would suggest we run.**

 **I would decline. With how few we are, we on Earth are very close. More a family than a military unit. I could never leave them.** Prime murmurs.

 **I have no such qualms, though I’d expected that answer.** The warlord answers, for once at peace. **Perhaps, perhaps we may speak in person. Soothe the loneliness of two leaders this night. We can leave it all for a few hours, I would think. Perhaps we could _negotiate_ a temporary cease fire.** Megatron purrs the last bit in a way that heats every bit of coding that had ever been part of Orion.

 **Primus. Fine. That sounds amicable enough. It’s been quite some time.** The Prime agrees, unsure quite how long it’s been.

Megatron smirks. **Though our meeting will have to be somewhere secret. I’m followed everywhere.**

The Prime nods to himself. Fair enough. **You pick the location. Send me the coordinates, and I'll meet you there. This should be.. Interesting to say the least.** The Prime mumbled, once again glancing around to ensure that no one was listening in on his private comlink. Especially Ratchet.

Interesting indeed, Megatron sighed to himself after quickly ending the link and sending the coordinates of one of their older excavation sites. The mech wasn't completely surprised to see Soundwave standing beyond his door but his second in command merely inclines his helm and opens a bridge for his master- a silent promise that the telepath will keep this liaison a secret. He nods back at his TIC and watches a ground bridge open. The warlord strolls through, and is surprised at the sudden drop as he transforms into his alt, though he relishes the opportunity to fly- and the knowledge the spymaster had been unclear on the exact coordinates of the meeting.

Optimus let out a long sigh when Megatron ended the conversation, moving over to the ground bridge. Yes, he was aware of the mistake he was most likely making. But his impulses were all over the place, and his nerves were beginning to get the best of him.But a night where somehow, he ended up with his equal? Some responsible part of him feels this won’t end well but other bits of code thrum with an enthusiasm that Optimus is surprised at. He steels himself and before he can spend any more time talking himself out of it he opens a ground bridge and leaves the base for the coordinates Megatron had sent him.

Megaton leaned against the cave wall, staring further in as he waited for the Autobot leader. After a bit he questioned the sanity of this decision and if Optimus would indeed show up at all. With hesitant steps, Optimus walked through the portal. Despite the fact he was interested in meeting with Megatron and their earlier conversation, he remained well aware of how unpredictable the mech could be. Nonetheless, he arrived at the mine, and glances around until he spots the warlord leaning against the granite cliff face. He turned his helm slightly, optics scanning over the mech. The larger mech looks as impressive as usual-he smells of solvent and wax, and his faceplates seem less tense, his optic ridges less drawn. He was either sincere in his desire for a quiet evening and hoping for some interfacing or going to stab him.

"Look who finally decided to show up", he teased, although there wasn't much meaning behind it. Optimus only let out a huff in response to the mechs teasing, his stare obviously unamused.

"Yes well I wanted to ensure that I wasn't followed." He explained, before tilting his helm in the general direction of the cave. "Shall we? Being out in the open doesn't seem like such a good idea." He nodded slightly, turning back towards the cave.

"I suppose you're right." He threw a quick glance back at the Prime before continuing forward, encouraging his optics to gradually adjust to the slowly dimming cave. "You sure none of your little family followed you? Or worse the human pets?"

Optimus nodded stiffly, glancing around the cave discreetly to find any weak spots in the walls. "I'm positive. Even Ratchet was too busy to see me leave." He answered. "And no one truely questions the actions of a Prime."

Megatron chuckled, "I'm sure they don't." He kicked smaller rocks as he went along absentmindedly, trying to recall the way through the crumbling pathways. "We should be nearing an excavation point soon. It will be a bit less cramped."

"Yes that would be.. More suitable." Optimus commented, keeping his optics on the mech in front of him. Now that he was actually there, with the tyrant, he couldn't get over how ridiculous the situation was. And how idiotic everyone would think of him if they only knew. So when they finally entered the clearing, the Prime let out a sigh. "What are we doing, Megatron? How did we fool ourselves into believing that this would relieve any stress?" The mech leaned against the wall with a huff, "Let's see... I believe it started with your questionable interfacing, then went into painful memories, and then you suggested this. As for stress..."

He let his words fade away as his optics turned towards the ceiling of the cave, avoiding Optimus' own gaze. Optimus raised an optic ridge in questioning when Megatron's sentence fell short. Taking a step toward the mech, he placed a servo on his hip. "As for stress?" He pushed the subject.  
He shook his helm, "I'm not sure. I am still stressed but it's different than the kind I feel on Nemesis." He observed the other closely. How could he explain something he didn’t quite understand himself? "It's... complicated."

Optimus only nodded in reply, pausing for a moment to think before he finally spoke what was on his mind. "Well, you're not wrong. Although, I must admit something about what began this entire argument." He explained. "I actually haven't interfaced with anyone as of late. Meaning eons. I thought clarification of that may help."

Megatron froze a moment, overwhelmed by how much that information calmed him, to know that even with the Prime within him, his form had not been touched by anyone. "I suppose I should also admit something as well. I too haven't interfaced for quite a while," his voice lowered considerably, "Despite Starscream’s irritating ramblings."

Optimus' optics widened subtly in surprise to the others confession, quickly looking away. "Yes well you must have a good sense of self control." He hummed, before choosing to hesitantly reach out a servo and press it against the other mech’s chassis, "I can't remember the last time we touched without the intent of killing each other." He tensed slightly when the warlord’s talons grasped his hips with a surety bred of forgotten familiarity.

"I can," he chuckled. He looked at the other mech's servo a moment before shaking his helm. "It was... long ago, but I do remember."

Optimus raised an optic ridge. "Oh really?" He wondered, keeping his servo in place but not going any further. Megatron nodded slowly.  
"Although... You seem to have forgotten a lot of things from long ago." He looked into the Prime's servos' searching for something he wasn't white sure of before looking away again. Optimus tilted his helm to the side at the half answer that the other mech gave him, narrowing his optics before placing his other servo on Megatron’s shoulder plating.

"That may be the case in some ways, but don't forget that many times I can still feel Orion's presence." He commented, taking another step forward. "And I am fully aware of how he misses your touch."

Megatron leaned further back against the wall, fighting against himself. Orion missed his touch...his still servo on the rounded curve of one hip still rested lightly. This wasn’t the slight mech he had known, not his little archivist, but yet not completely the Prime he constantly battled. His placed his other servo on the others chassis slowly, barely touching, careful not to scratch the other on accident. He met the Prime’s optics, suppressed memories of who they once were reappearing for seconds, causing the Primes optics to brighten in anticipation. The former gladiator’s servos move with a sudden and blissful certainty, one digging into some of the most sensitive nerve sensors in Optimus’ hip, the other sweeping upwards to caress his audials, thumb stroking his jaw.

He suddenly felt as though he was losing control to a foreign surge of desperation, the kind of emotion that he knew his own mind couldn't have created. Hesitantly he found himself moving nearer the mech, plating coming near enough he can feel the heat growing in his frame, but hesitant to press in, plate to plate. Megatron invents nervously. The servos against the Prime quiver with the mech’s warring arousal and agitation.

"So much for avoiding stress," he mumbled, not to any more to himself than to the other mech. Optimus rolled his optics in reply to the others words, and flexes his abdominals, impatiently rolling his hips into Megatron’s servo. Optimus chews his lip plates for a moment, enjoying how the claws tease his wires. With hardly any hesitation he leaned down to draw his mouth at the mechs sensitive neck cables, sucking near his chest plates and nipping teasingly at the juncture of the mech’s helm and throat. "Oh I think this is the perfect stress relief, Megatron."

He clenched his denta together as his cooling vents kicked decisively higher, excitement and unforeseen passion fluttering in his tanks. Optimus feels like a mech possessed, irrationally, irresponsibly, enamored with the graceful, bold shapes of the chest plates and how broad the mech’s shoulders are. He puts his glossa to work on the seemingly unaffected mech’s chassis and finally, presses his lips to his chin, licking, nipping and scraping his dente maddeningly close to the other mech’s mouth, but never touching- taunting, teasing. Optimus ignored the light indents from Megatron’s digits, choosing to press even closer to the mech. "What? Did you just want to have a 'civil conversation'?" He hummed into the others audial processors, slowly turning his gentle bites into kisses. “

'Civil'?" he chuckled slightly until Optimus brushed against one of his more sensitive cables. Within a moment Megatron lost his restraint, pulling the other mech flush against him and pressing against him in a harsh kiss. Optimus' vents hitched when Megatron suddenly kissed him, his frame tensing for only a moment before he relaxed into the motion. On instinct he moved both of his servos to wrap his arms around the others neck, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss. Megatron paused a moment, half expecting the other to push him away even as he deepened the kiss. His servos moved slowly, tracing invisible lines over the Autobot leader's chassis, his talon like digits tracing along the seams, tugging lightly on any cables they came across peaking just beneath the cracks. Optimus' frame was gradually beginning to shake underneath the others servos, letting out soft, muffled groans each time Megatron’s digits pulled on a sensitive wire.

He could hardly remember the last time he'd been intimate with a bot. And that, that was what he chooses to use to write off the bizarre desperation, that somehow he couldn't get enough of the contact. Megatron's servos continued in their actions as he broke apart from the kiss, trailing away to the mech's neck cables. He kissed them softly, nipping every once in a while, ever mindful of his sharpened denta. Optimus let out a soft hum and tilted his helm back when the other moved the kisses to his neck cables. A part of him knew just how wrong this was, that if anyone knew he'd willingly consented to the other’s touches no one would look at him the same. Still, he was terribly desperate to feel the mech against him. And that was the side of him which ultimately won, as he lifted a servo to the back of Megatron’s helm, holding him closer.

One of Megatron's servos finally came to rest on the others hip. He bit softly on the Prime's main energon cable as his helm was pressed closer.  
He knew that this was a risk, and likely a regrettable mistake but the sounds that Optimus let out, soft as they may be, were clouding his processors. Optimus leaned closer to the mech on instinct, his vents hitching and a loud groan escaping him when he felt the others sharp dente against his energon cable. Immediately his optics opened to narrowly glare at the con. "Don't mark me." He warned. "My team is... Very likely to notice."

Megatron chuckled softly. "I'm sure they're very observant," he remarked before biting down a little harder than necessary, sucking over the bite and easing away the other mech's pain. Optimus involuntarily jumped at the sudden bite, his optics widening in shock. He'd been just about to push back against the mech, before the pain was hastily replaced with pleasure and his scolding turned into a long moan. Against his better judgment, his helm fell back and his frame relaxed once again. "Ah... Y-You come up with an excuse then.."

Megatron smirked slightly, "You 'fell'." One servo came to press near the back of his helm while the other remained securely on his waist. Not enough to keep the other their by force, but enough that Optimus would have to make a conscious effort to back away. And the time to make such a choice was slowly slipping away. Optimus only huffed in reply to the others sarcastic remark, glancing down at the mech once more before shutting his optics. He was only vaguely aware of how the cons servos moved across his frame, too consumed by the way Megatron felt against him, destroying any thoughts he could possibly have.

"Don't worry," he whispered, lips moving up to the mech's jaw, "I wont break you." he kissed at the corner of the others lips before moving to the other side of his neck, to reach more of his sensitive cables; meanwhile the servo on the Autobot's waist pulled him slightly closer. "No.. That's for the battlefield, hm?"  
He tried to reply, although his voice came out weaker than intended, losing the sentence to a moan. Without thinking, he lifted a leg to rest against the others hip, the hold he had on the mech tightening when Megatron resumed kissing his neck cables. Megatron's cooling vents began to work faster as he slowly lost control. A servo went to hold Optimus' leg in place, grinding against him ever so slightly as he once again bit down on one of the Prime's cables. Optimus felt his spark pulse out of rhythm when Megatron's hips moved against his own, letting out a soft whine. "F-Frag.." He cursed, his frame momentarily tensing at the second bite. Megatron smirked slightly against the others neck, grinding against him once more, harder this time, keeping a firm grip on his leg. Sucking on the cords once more, he allowed his servo to inch up the inside of the mech's leg. Optimus' frame had gradually began to shudder each time Megatron pressed up against his sensitive plating, his cooling vents working on overdrive. While each time he felt the others mouth against a vital cable, his spark flared. "Oh Primus... If any of the others saw us... If they found out.."

"Does that matter now?" Megatron questioned, bringing his lips over the others, kissing him softly at first before his denta caught the other mech's lip plate. The slight tang of his life blood hit Megatron's palette and his glossa came to swipe over the small cut before he whispered. "Perhaps, you wish to stop..?"  
Optimus moaned into the gentle kiss, hardly registering the sting in his lip until the others glossa grazed across the cut. He could hardly believe how dizzy the con was making him, or how each time they kissed a part of his processor went blank. "You know that neither of us wishes to stop..."  
Megatron kissed him again lightly, "That, is very true."

Grinding against the other mech he allowed his servos to roam up and down the smooth plating I the others form; optics taking in every detail of the Prime's curves. Optimus managed to think through his clouded processors long enough to grind back against the others hips, moving their frames together with a low moan. "A-Although we should... Shouldn't be gone for too long."

‘He struggled to form a coherent sentence, pressing against the mechs servos. "Well then," he purred against the others lips, servos moving swiftly downward. Digits pressing lightly over the others sensitive panels. "Shall we?"

Optimus' vents hitched when the others digits moved against his interface panel, hardly noticing how his frame instinctively pressed back against the others servo. His optics had managed to haze over, dimming in brightness before he nodded hastily. He only hesitated for a moment, knowing that the second he gave in completely to the Decepticon leader, that he could never go back. Nonetheless, he knew that his needs would win over, and he retracted the panel, revealing his spike and valve.

Megatron's digits pressed lightly along his spike as his optics took in the sight of the quivering mech before him. In a swift fluid motion he reversed their positions so that Optimus was pressed against the wall of the cave. Lip plates found their way to sensitive cables once more as digits wrapped around the sensitive spike as another set drew small circles on the mech's back. His interface panels snapped back as his cooling fans struggled to keep his heated frame in a manageable state. He jerked his servo, ever so slightly as he captured a cable between his denta, running his glossa over it in a quick stroke. Optimus couldn't keep from subtly flinching when the mechs digits moved across his spike, refusing to meet the others optics until he was forcefully moved against the cave wall.

It was also then that he was reminded of how long it had been since he was touched in such a manner, a soft cry escaping him when Megatron’s servo wrapped around his spike and he resumed moving his mouth across Optimus' neck cables. "M-Megatron.." He whined, his voice involuntarily coming out weak and needy.

The sound of his name coming from the other mech's mouth in such a way made his circuits hum in a satisfying haze that clouded his processor. His servos dig into Optimus’ hips and pump his spike. Kissing the other gently, a servo found its way to his aft; digits prodding against the mech's valve.  
Optimus was quickly losing any and all control he had left, his resolve falling away to turn him into a moaning, and whining mess. He desperately returned the kisses placed on his lips, pressing his aft back against Megatron’s servo. "F-Frag me.." Megatron chuckled breathlessly as the warlords claws shamelessly teasing external nodes, playing with the rapidly lubricating valve. Meanwhile his other servo pressed to the back of the Prime's neck, tilting his helm backwards so that Megatron could once again reach his cables as he grounded his spike against the others. Optimus' hold on Megatron immediately tightened when the others digits entered his valve, letting out soft moans, near whimpers, each time the mechs sharp tips brushed against a specific node.  
He allowed Megatron to move him, willingly tilting his helm back and shutting his optics as he concentrated on the pleasure. "Megatron.. Ah if.. If you keep this up I'm... I'm going to overload.." He warned.

Megatron doesn’t slow or back down, if anything his digits delve into the valve faster, and a thumb presses insistently at his external node.There’s a growl into his audial only half heard as his back struts arc and charge bounces across the silver plating of the warbuild’s wrist, lubricant dripping obscenely and staticed moans echoing through the cave.

Megatron kissed up the others neck to whisper his name, retracting his digits before running them over his own spike. He positioned himself against the mech's valve, still convulsing and clutching desperately, placing his servo on the leg that was wrapped around him- before thrusting inside, groaning as he felt his overload already approaching. Optimus' frame tensed when he felt Megatron push inside of him, hardly waiting to begin rocking his hips against the others, desperate for any sort of friction despite the traces of his prior overload soaking his valve. His hold on the mech automatically tightened, pulling the Decepticon completely against him.

Everything felt so familiar, yet perfectly new, and he could hardly get enough. Matron’s grip on the others leg tightened slightly as he ran his other servo over the Prime's back, talon like digits pressing into the seams, tugging on cables. Rocking his hips rhythmically, he vented heavily, groaning the others name. Simply hearing the Decepticon moan his name had Optimus nearing the edge. He could hardly explain it, but the others voice, sounding so heavy with pleasure, was driving him insane. "M-Megatron.. Ah frag... Close.."

He nearly growled the words, his digits beginning to leave small scratch marks on the mechs frame. "Me too," he groaned heavily, servo holding tightly onto the others leg while still trying to reach sensitive wires.

He thrust his hips forward sharply at the feeling of the others scratches but the slight pain was quickly converted to pleasure. His cooling fans whirred so quickly he could hear the hum of them within his helm, Optimus' moans the only other sound that broke through as he pulled the mech even closer to his frame; feeling as though he just couldn't get close enough to the Prime. Optimus let out a cry when Megatron thrust into him so quickly, his helm tilting forward slightly with a long whine.

"H-Harder.." He gasped out, his cooling vents beginning to hitch every few moments. He was so close to the overload he wanted so terribly, he just needed.. More. "Harder, please harder."

Megatron's processor buzzed at the others words as he began to thrust within him, hard and fast. His overload was so close he could barely think as his spare servo made it's way down to Optimus' spike, running his digits over it. He pressed his lips to the other mech's as he moaned loudly. The servo on his spike, combined with the processor numbing kiss Megatron gave him, finally brought Optimus to his second climax. He was forced to pull away in order to cry out the others name, while his entire frame shuddered hard and his digits left small indents on the mechs frame.

Megatron's overload followed soon after as he let out a groan, servos unconsciously pulling the mech against his form as his optics momentarily offlined. Meanwhile his body worked it's hardest to cool him. The sound of twin vents the only sound he could register at that moment. Optimus' optics flickered between online and offline, his hold on Megatron slightly loosening as he leaned back against the cave, allowing the other mech to support his frame. He didn't want to say anything. What he had done was already beginning to sink in, and he didn't want to think. Instead he wanted to concentrate on the pleasure still coursing through his frame, or how comfortably sticky his thighs were becoming. Megatron rest his head on the others shoulder, optics still offline a he tried to keep his mind blank. Trying, for once, not to worry about every little thing that came to mind. Eventually, Optimus' vents and fans resumed their regular functioning modes, although his frame continued to be still against Megatron’s own. He wished he could continue to stay there. With time frozen. But he could practically already hear Ratchet frantically comming him with a problem at the base. So of course, he was the first to speak up.  
"Well that was definitely pleasurable.." He hummed. Megatron nodded, optics coming online a he slowly moved away from the Autobot in order to lean against the cave wall.

"Yes, it was." It was all he managed to come up with but, for the moment it seemed like enough. Optimus let out a soft groan when Megatron pulled away, now being forced to stand on his own. Already his hips were beginning to feel sore, and there was no doubt that he would have to sneak around the base until he healed. He stayed where he was for a few moments, still relying on the cave wall for support. "

I.. I suppose I should return." Megatron stretched slightly before tilting his helm back to rest on the wall, much cooler than his own heated frame. He tried to ignore the small twinge in the back of his processor that protested against the others departure. "I suppose that would be best. Wouldn't want anyone to come searching."

"Definitely not." Optimus chuckled weakly, continuing to stay where he was before he pushed himself off the wall. He did a sub-par job of cleaning himself up, doing what he could before he contacted base for a ground bridge. "Well I suppose I will see you at a later time."

He stated, looking at the other with unsure optics, fighting against the urge to touch, to do anything before he left. Megatron only nodded, unsure what might come from his vocalizer if he parted his lips. He simply stared back at Optimus,optics meeting only for a moment before he broke the connection and turned his helm away; fighting against urges he wasn't quite used to and couldn't fully understand. Optimus opened his mouth to speak, about to say more before the ground bridge opened behind him. He didn't plan on speaking with anyone when he returned, easily deciding to take a decontamination bath rather than anything else. He most definitely didn't want a certain medic to smell the Decepticon on him. So without another word, he left. As soon as the other had gone, Megatron looked up at where he had stood. He decided to take the long way out to let his systems completely cool and resettle as he wandered back through the abandoned tunnels.


	2. You Got to be What Tomorrow Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright this to an age to edit. Here's chapter 2!

Something was terribly wrong. Optimus was fully aware of that. His emotions were being processed in all sorts of unusual and atypical ways, and he'd been uncharacteristically angry at the team. Ever since the 'incident' weeks ago a delicate tickling, tugging, feeling had been welling in the Primes spark; like the cotton wood fluffs that got caught in his vents. And finally, like an epiphany he’d never wanted, he believed he'd come to terms with what was happening inside of his frame. He hated it. But, it was his fault. And he was scared. So thoughtlessly, foolishly, he went to the only bot he could believed he could trust unequivocally, Ratchet. As usual, the medic was busy focusing on the computers, searching for somewhere the group could find a steady supply of energon. He sighed, rubbing his optics before turning his head to look at Optimus, raising an optic ridge seeing the look of slight panic on his friend's face. Yes, the mech had been acting out of the ordinary lately with his random anger at the rest of the team, but panic?  
Now Ratchet knew something was going on. "Optimus, is something wrong?" The Prime could only shake his helm in reply, doing his best to sort through all the different directions his processors were going in. He gulped nervously, before he forced himself to speak. "I've made a terrible mistake. And now I fear it cannot be corrected."  
He spoke in a strained voice, looking at his friend with nervous optics. Ratchet frowned hearing the strain in Optimus's voice, taking the other's servos in his and holding them tightly as he looked his friend in the optics.  
"Go ahead, Optimus. I promise I will not judge you or think of you any differently." He assured him, as gentle as the gruff medic could be a kind grin lighting his optics. Optimus wished that Ratchets kindness reassured him. But instead it made his tanks roll. He knew that the bot, even before the existence of Optimus Prime, had regarded this spark with unwavering loyalty, that Ratchet wouldn't be able to look at him the same.  
Nonetheless, he needed help that only a medic could give him. It was a few moments before he found the courage to speak. "Ratchet I... I have reason to believe I'm.. Sparked." Ratchet felt like his spark dropped in his chassis, or as though it had just broken into thousands of pieces. He stared blankly at the other for several moments before letting out a small cough and shaking his head. "I... I will test you to make sure, if you'd like...Uh, may I ask who would be the sparkling’s sire, if you are?"  
Optimus was no fool. He could see how quickly the others gaze changed, and he immediately forced himself to look down, not wanting to look at the medic. He suddenly felt dizzy, and it was the least he could do to not fall as he replied. "First just.. Just tell me if I am carrying."  
Ratchet nodded, about to get the equipment until he noticed Optimus looking ready to collapse. "Optimus, I'll bring my equipment to your room, you should go lie down or at least sit." Ratchet told him, trying to look him in the optics again. "And... you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, alright? The only thing you need to worry about is calming yourself down in case you are carrying."  
Optimus simply nodded before he slowly walked back to his quarters, using the wall as support before he nearly collapsed onto the berth in his room. He did his best to stay calm, fully aware of the dangerous effects a corrupted spark could have on his frame. Ratchet leaned against one of the platforms for a few moments, staring at the floor as he tried to process everything that had just happened. "But... who would he have interfaced with? No, he wouldn't do that... right? Maybe it was- no, if it had been forced he would have told me right away! But who would the sire be? The only bot I could think of..."  
Slowly it began to dawn on Ratchet, the fact that there was only one possibility. The medic quickly shook his head, pushing any and every thought about Optimus having a sparkling of Megatron's out of his head, telling himself it wasn't possible. That his oldest friend hadn’t fallen into the gladiator’s berth again, that he hadn’t betrayed them. He quickly gathered his equipment, familiar actions steadying his servos, drawing a deep breath before heading to Optimus's quarters. He wouldn't bring up the subject of the sire again, and he swore he wouldn't act any differently towards Optimus.  
He had to support the other no matter what, and he was going to do his best to do so. He stepped into the room, walking to Optimus's side and smiling weakly once again. Optimus continued to feel sick up until the moment Ratchet entered the room, managing to slightly smile back at the medic. He wanted to say that he wasn't afraid, but that would easily be a lie. All considering that he was absolutely terrified. "Thank you, old friend." He mumbled. "I'm just sorry to come to you with this."  
"It's alright, Optimus. I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me about this to begin with. Besides, this way I can at least help you take proper care of the sparkling, should you be carrying." Ratchet replied, beginning to go through his equipment. Optimus froze up when Ratchet actually referred to him as a carrier, a wave of nausea crashing into him. If he was carrying, it would be Megatron’s sparkling. And there was no good outcome that he could see if he did bring it into their war corrupted universe. The youngling would never be safe. So It simply wasn't an option.  
"No." He quickly spoke. "Ratchet, if I am carrying.. The only real reason I came to you would be.. To terminate it." Ratchet stopped, turning to look at Optimus in pure shock, his mouth wide.  
"Terminate? You're sure? Optimus, I... While I understand the conditions it would be born into, are you aware how dangerous that is even with proper medic performing the procedure?"  
“I am aware that breaking the creator bond, even one so new is a delicate procedure, I am also aware of your success rate on such delicate work, even though we agree it is not a skill to brag about. We haven’t the time, resources or stability to raise a sparkling. I-” the prime’s vocalizer fritzed, vents shudder in a shaky sigh, the composed mech slumped forward like a scolded mechling. “I would be unlikely to survive the carriage without the bitlet’s sire in any case. Carrying could kill me even with the Matrix, and terminating could kill me. I accept the consequences of my actions, old friend, as should you.”  
The medic shuddered and nodded with a pained expression, beginning the pregnancy test. Optimus was actually relieved when Ratchet agreed to his terms, feeling as though a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He willingly let Ratchet take whatever samples were necessary, from his energon to his spark. And when it was finally over, he couldn't keep from nervously fidgeting as he waited for the verdict. It took Ratchet nearly half an hour to have the information processed, going in at least twice to assure his friend the results would be available soon, hoping to make him less anxious. He was anxious himself, of course, but only because he had hoped that with Preceptor's invention of a viable long term contraceptive, that he would never have to perform the spark breaking procedure again. His pre-war dead end clinic had had too many mecha who couldn’t feed themselves forced to take drastic measures against bearing a sparkling that would have no hope of seeing the world before extinguishing, and his later work as the Autobot CMO was hardly any better. When the carriers honestly rejected the bitlet, the procedure was much smoother. Sparklings that were desperately wanted but couldn’t be brought into the turmoil of the streets and war? They clung to their carriers, their carriers clung to them. It broke his spark every time.  
Finally, Ratchet entered the room with his gaze set on his servos as he played with them, slowly glancing up at his friend. "The results were positive. Optimus, you are carrying."  
Optimus could most definitely feel his spark drop when he heard Ratchet speak, his optics widening momentarily in shock. But he couldn't truly say that he was surprised. The bond between his former Orion Pax and Megatron would have no doubt created a life. So then why did he feel so wrong? Lifting his servos, he covered his faceplate with them, letting out a pained groan. "M-Megatron.. The sire is Megatron."  
He finally admitted, far too distressed to care about who knew the truth. Ratchet said nothing, did nothing. He just stood, staring blankly into Optimus's optics. He couldn't force himself to speak or to even move for several moments after the truth had been revealed. Of course it was Megatron's, and he'd already known it, he had just wanted so badly to deny it. Finally, Ratchet turned, rubbing at his optics as tears began to form. "You should sleep, Optimus... the extermination may be a bit stressful and it's best you calm yourself and get some rest before hand..."  
The medic said weakly, trying to hide the hurt so obvious in his voice. Of course it was Megatron. Even if this whole war hadn't started, if neither bots had been possessed, Orion would be carrying Megatronus's sparkling if carrying at all, no matter how badly Ratchet wanted to share a sparkling with Optimus instead. No matter whether he was Orion Pax or Optimus Prime, Ratchet would always just be a friend and a medic originally bought for him by his father, while Megatron and Megatronus would always be the one to have the larger mech's love. Optimus had to fight the urge to profusely apologize to Ratchet when the medic turned away from him. And the guilt he felt was immeasurable when there was no doubt that his friend was hurting. He should have known better. After everything the Decepticon leader had done to them.. All the pain Megatron had put his team through... There was no excuse for his actions. The fact that he was sparked was no one else's fault but his own.  
"... I'm sorry." He finally spoke. "Ratchet I am so sorry. If I could go back and change things, I would."  
Ratchet held up a servo, shaking his helm. "There... there is nothing for you to apologize for, Optimus. If it was your choice, I respect that... I-I can't change how you feel, nor can you. But if it wasn't your choice..." He shook his helm once again, crossing his arms. "Please, friend, just rest." With this, Ratchet left Optimus's quarters and went to his own, sitting on his berth and hiding his faceplate behind his servos.  
+  
Optimus did what he could to follow Ratchets instructions. But that was becoming increasingly hard as he would glance down at his abdominal plating, beginning to notice that he could practically feel the younglings sparkbeat against his own whirling spark, growing stronger cycle by cycle. The thought of destroying it left him in more pain than he could imagine. But at the same time, he knew what was right- the tiny unborn as yet frameless spark should never have to suffer the harshness of war, of being a political target. He'd made sacrifices for the greater good before. This would just be one that hurt more than it should. He'd been about to search for Ratchet once more, before he could hear alarms going off at the center of the base.  
And he quickly decided his own struggles could wait. At least until a later time. When he arrived at the center, he was surprised to see everyone readying to enter the groundbridge, getting a quick reply from Arcee about being able to locate the Nemesis. He didn't ask many more questions, instead choosing to enter the portal with the others. The only problem being, that he knew the moment he came anywhere near Megatron, that the Decepticon would be able to sense the part of the sparkling which was his. All the Prime could hope was that the dark energon inside of Megatron would cloud his senses.  
Megatron watched his men scurry around the room as the Autobots were detected, shoulders square as he assessed Soundwave’s annoyed data-packet. He waited until it was truly necessary to head out to their location on his ship; ignoring the feeling in the back of his helm at seeing the Prime once again. The mission was relatively simple. The kind of mission that they had always imagined if they ever found the Nemesis. Either take control of the vessel or take it down. So Optimus was thankful to see that his team knew precisely what to do. In fact, as they inched closer to the control deck, he was almost convinced that perhaps Megatron wasn't even on the ship. And maybe, he wouldn't be noticed. Of course, he should have known better, he thinks to himself as grey plating distinguishes itself from the gloom, stalking toward him. On instinct he tried to fall back. Megatron watched as Optimus tried to retreat through the action in vain, not making much progress. The mech made directly towards the Prime, pushing those who got in his way to the side without a care as to whether they were Decepticon or Autobot, focused entirely on the pull in his spark.  
Optimus did what he could to continue backing away from the Decepticon, transforming his sword and bringing down his mouthplate in defense when he saw the other getting closer. It was only when he felt his back struts hit a wall, did he realize he'd cornered himself, and in a near panic he tried to contact Ratchet.  
Megatron stared, optics following the other as he backed himself into a corner. They narrowed as the Prime brought up his defenses. As he moved closer a feeling stirred in his processors but he pushed it away. When it came back even stronger his pace towards the other quickened. Optimus' optics widened when Megatron got even closer, practically yelling into the commlink. "Ratchet, I need a ground bridge. I need a ground bridge now!" He spoke frantically, noticing that to his side the green portal was already beginning to open. Megatron could see the glow of the quickly opening ground bridge from the corner of his optics but he ignored it, choosing instead to lunge forward and wrap a servo around the other's wrist, jerking him to the side, away from the portal. The feeling intensified upon the contact and Megatron was nearly certain what it meant even a he denied it.  
Looking around to see if they were being watched Megatron tugged the Prime into a room, quickly closing the doors. Optimus let out a shocked yell when Megatron so forcefully dragged him into another room, his servos immediately going to his abdominal plating at the harsh grab to his side. And he absolutely hated the fact that the hold Megatron had on him was causing distress to the sparkling in his frame. But nonetheless he couldn't force himself to say anything when the noise of the battle was suddenly muffled, staring at the Decepticon in shock. Megatron took a moment, trying to decode what he was feeling and the Prime's strange demeanor. When his optics fell on the others servos, resting protectively upon his abdominal plaiting, the pieces fell together and he was left, for a moment, only to stare in mute shock.  
Optimus was only frozen for a few more moments, finally choosing to narrow his optics at the Decepticon. "What do you want?" He growled. "My team is out there fighting."  
He stated, hastily moving his servos when he noticed the others gaze glance downwards. "Y-you..." He struggled to find the right words to put what he was feeling into a clear sentence as he pointed an accusing digit towards the other's abdominal plating.  
"You can't be..." he trailed off, not quite sure what else to say, afraid putting it into words would make it true and unchanging. Optimus removed his mouthplate in order to scowl at the other, taking a defensive step back. "I am carrying. If that's what you are questioning." He spoke in finality. "But not for long. I am terminating it as soon as I can. So you needn't worry about 'sire’s responsibilities'." He spat.  
Megatron's helm spun slightly with the thought of the Prime carrying his sparkling. True, termination would be the right thing to do, to an extent but.... A sparking... Optimus was carrying a small and innocent sparking within his frame; a symbol of the betrayal they had both committed against their men and of the Primus damned feelings that had bound the two but a small part of him thought... It was also a piece , a small part of Orion and his still present love for Megatronus. "You can't," was all managed to say as thoughts swamped his processor.  
Optimus was beginning to feel sick again as Megatron stared at him in such hurt, quickly adverting his gaze and clenching his servos into fists. "Yes, I can." He stated. "And I will. I won't allow my sparkling to be born into such a war. And I do not have the time or equipment to safely carry it. That is the simple truth."  
"It is not all your choice to make," Megatron tried to say as calmly as possible while still failing to contain a glare. He understood Optimus' reasoning, but he had his own reasons and he wouldn't allow this piece of Orion to slip away from him. He vented heavily, calming himself a fraction, "The sparking is not yours alone."  
Optimus rolled his optics, about to reply before he found himself unconsciously lifting a servo to his abdominal plating once again, having felt the spark inside of him flare in a sharp burst that left him unsteady. The entire conversation, no the entire situation, was causing such strain on his frame that he really couldn't be surprised that the sparkling was beginning to panic."I-I don't..."  
He tried to continue speaking, but his vision was beginning to get blurry, and he desperately reached out to the wall. "I-It's hurting." He gasped out, his vents malfunctioning.  
Megatron's optics widened and he took a step forward. When Optimus' vents hitched once more he reached out to steady the mech. His instincts to protect his sparkling an it's carrier taking over. Optimus hated that Megatron was suddenly so concerned. It was obviously just his sire coding, and the Prime couldn't do anything to fight back. "D-Don't.." He whined, grimacing at a sudden pain and nearly falling.  
He was well aware that the sparkling inside of him was very, very close to destroying itself from simple stress. And the only thing that was separating it from going offline was the Decepticon near him. "Calm down," Megatron said shortly, placing a servo over the other's abdominal plating.  
He lead the Prime to a chair not too far away and knelt in front of the mech with slightly narrowed eyes, not really mad but more irritated and condescending; the way he used to scold Orion for working too hard without recharging. "Do you often stress yourself out?"  
Optimus couldn't do much else besides allow Megatron to guide him towards the chair, giving in and sitting down with the others support. He did his best to concentrate, to focus on one thing rather than let his sparkling tear itself apart. "Constantly." He finally spoke, tilting his helm back and shutting his optics. "That's what happens when you are fighting for your life everyday."  
Megatron vented heavily looking the mech up and down, the strain an stress showing in his tense frame. "You need to rest." He knew this want quite the time for the Prime to be relaxing but the look of him and the stress the sparkling was no doubt feeling was distressing to Megatron. Optimus nearly laughed at Megatrons words, shaking his helm in disbelief. "Rest? Right now? We are in the middle of a battle!  
" He hissed, about to say more before he was cut off by another sharp pain, forced to lean forward as he held back a pained yell. "My team is.. Still in danger."  
"And you are carrying," he snapped. "How much help do you think you're going to be in this state?" He questioned, pointing out what he was sure the other already knew. Optimus was silent for a few moments, trying to think through his crowded processor. He was certain that Megatron’s only priority was the sparkling, and there was practically no way around the Decepticon. Finally, he narrowed his optics at the other.  
"Guarantee their safety." He ordered. "Call a truce, for now. Or else I will destroy the life of this sparkling. Even if it takes me as well." Megatron's spark stung a bit at the idea of the ending of both lives; erasing any other thought.  
"Done," he said, quickly comming Soundwave and giving the order to retreat, knowing he would pay for this order later, before turning his attention back to the Prime. While Megatron did that, Optimus quietly contacted his own team. He wasn't afraid to admit that he was relieved at hearing all of their voices come over the commlink, hastily ordering them to return to base without him. Of course, they protested, but he could only assure them that everything would be alright. And the moment he was done with that, he looked back to Megatron with a glare. "I need a medic."  
Megatron vented heavily as he thought about his slightly incompetent medic attending to the Prime and sparkling. "What exactly do you need?" Optimus winced again when he felt another spark flare, shaking his helm. "I just.. Need to make sure it won't corrupt. If it hasn't already." He groaned. "I need a full frame scan. And for the little one to calm down." Megatron panicked for a moment but quickly calmed himself, it seemed simple enough. He commed Knockout and, after numerous threats about running his mouth, told him to prepare the medbay. When he finished he looked back to the Prime. "I'm.... Not quite sure how to calm a sparkling but the scan should be ready by the time we get there..." Optimus was too busy focusing on dulling the pain to listen to Megatron arguing with his medic. His vents were threatening to malfunction entirely and by the time the other had finished speaking, he was in a panic. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed the others servo, bringing it to his abdominal plating. "You're the sire. Calm. Your. Sparkling." He growled, the tone of his voice accusing. The mech allowed instinct to take over, and slowly sank down to his knees, faceplates even with the Primes’s chest plates and the spark whirring in panic next to its carrier. Softly humming, the gladiator, the Slagmaker, the terror of Kaon, melted into the bond with his sparkling, gently nuzzling at Optimus, unaware of Optimus’ shock as his field softened and gently pressed though to his unborn bitlet.  
Optimus could almost immediately feel a change as the spark inside of him slowed down remarkably fast. An over relieved sigh rattled his vents and he leaned back more, relaxing and allowing the Decepticon to move closer. It quickly became clear just how necessary Megatron was to the survival of the sparkling they had created, and no matter how much he hated it, he was going to carry the youngling to full term. There was nothing he could do about it. Hesitantly, he lifted his own servos to rest over Megatron’s helm, doing what he could to also soothe the erratic sparkbeat, holding back the shock at how Megatron, of all mecha, gently soothed both carrier and sparkling with his powerful field. As the carrier's frame relaxed Megatron let out the air he didn't realize he was holding in.  
Optimus' servos joined his own and the mech calmed further, venting becoming more rhythmic and stable. After a bit he moved his optics up towards the other, "Do you think you're ready to walk now?" Optimus allowed himself to rest for a moment more, only truly looking at Megatron when the other spoke. Slowly he nodded, moving to stand but still using the Decepticon for support. Megatron kept his movements slow, hyper aware of the other mech's movements,letting his face slide against the other mech’s chassis as he stood and gently guided the Prime to his pedes, and they began to move towards the medbay. Nearly there, he turned to the Prime. "Still good?"  
Optimus did his best to keep his steps steady on his own without needing Megatrons help. Nonetheless, that didn't mean he was confident enough to walk without partially leaning against the Decepticon. Especially while he continued to do what he could to calm down the sparkling, relaxing his own EM field. "I'm fine."  
He replied shortly. Once they reached the medbay Knockout and Soundwave where waiting. After shooting Knockout a look of warning, he helped Optimus over to the scanner, then going over to Soundwave to review the status of the ship and crew. Optimus kept his optics on Megatron even after the scan began, ignoring the way the medics expression changed during it. He wished it could have been Ratchet to aid him, but he supposed that sooner or later everyone would know about the new addition to the war. Everyone would know about what both the Autobot and Decepticon leaders had done. By the time Megatron was done with Soundwave he looked over to the Prime and his medic, both looking overly uncomfortable with the situation at hand.  
He moved across the room, back over to the pair and stood within the silence, trying not to let his processors run wild with overly complicated possibilities. Optimus hated to admit that he was relieved when Megatron returned to his side. But nonetheless, it was slightly better to have the focus shifted from him to the Decepticon. After a few more minutes, Knockout grabbed a datapad and began reading results. Sarcastic remarks filled with only short moments of good news that the sparkling was still intact, but that any more strain on the Prime could cause a miscarriage or premature birth.  
Megatron listened to the information diligently before nodding and quickly dismissing his medic from the room. He re-processed the information, searching for all possible dangers. His optics ran over the carrier, attention coming back to the Prime. Optimus had preoccupied himself with staring down at his abdominal plating as Megatron spoke, choosing at that moment to keep his mouth sealed tight rather than voice his opinions.  
This, was mostly due to the fact that he still didn't want to carry the sparkling, his hostility towards the youngling growing stronger in perfect time to his hesitant affection for the fragging thing. Megatron watched the Prime closely, the other mech's attention seeming to be concentrated on the sparkling within him. Hostility, irritation, and... something more nearly radiated from the Autobot's optics, stuck on his abdominal plating. Megatron vented heavily.  
"Optimus..." He took a moment venting once more as he tried to calm his humming processor. He stared down at the carrier once more before looking away. "It is, i suppose.... your choice." Optimus had refused to glance at Megatron until he realized what the Decepticon had said, and immediately his optics widened as he looked at the other. A large part of him was shocked to hear that Megatron would give in so easily, but another section of him instantly felt guilty.  
He didn't want to carry the sparkling. But he couldn't shake the connection he already felt. And Megatron’s indecision wasn't making it easier. Without truly thinking he let out a burst of air through his vents, smiling softly. "You were always so soft-sparked for bitlets. Even withe the war running full tilt."  
Megatron shook his helm. "They are.... innocent."  
They were untouched by the war and didn't grasp the meaning behind it. The thought of losing his own sparkling made his spark burn, but the possibility of losing Orion, in any form, made it shatter. Optimus closed his optics and let out a long vent.  
"And what of its innocence after birth? How long will it go unscathed from our destruction?" He questioned. "I don't want to see my own sparkling torn between morals- quite literally considering its political implications." Megatron looked back at the mech for a moment. "I can't say that I know.... As I said before; the war is beyond just us now."  
He vented heavily, clenching his denta together as thoughts ran through his processor. "But you do know... I would allow no harm to reach them." Optimus shook his helm, internally cursing the symptoms of carrying as tears began to pool around his optics. "You can't promise me that.." He was suddenly beginning to speak softly. "You can't even promise me that it will survive to full term."  
Megaton's vents hitched as the the other's tears threatened to overflow. Every instinct in his fame told him that he should rush to the carrier and comfort him but he restrained himself, choosing instead to simply step closer to the other. "T-that's not true. You are strong as I know our sparkling must be." He clenched his servos, trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Optimus. ""With proper care, I am sure that you both with make it through."  
Optimus opened his mouth to reply, suddenly losing his voice to a choked sob. It was a terribly embarrassing thing to seem so weak in front of the one person he'd sworn to destroy. But no matter how he fought against the emotions crowding his processors, the tears began to fall freely down his faceplates. On instinct he lifted a servo to cover his mouth, muffling his cries. Megatron hesitated a moment but when the sobs began he moved even closer, instantly beside the Prime.  
He took one of the other's servos between his own as his processor scrambled to keep up and come up with something, anything, to say to the mech. Optimus found himself giving in the moment Megatrons servos grasped his own, leaning forward and resting his helm against the mechs chassis. No matter how much he hated it, Megatron was the sire. And he was the only bot Optimus could find comfort in. "I-I didn't want this.." He managed.  
Megatron was startled but quickly allowed the other to settle into his chassis, holding him close. He was so confused. He didn't know what to do. The crying bot before him reminded him so much more of the small Orion Pax and less thsn the ever stoic Prime. "Don't want what?" he questioned softly. "Any of this.."  
He replied, struggling to brush away the tears, and failing. "The sparkling. You and I. The war."  
He explained, having to pause every moment or so to let his vents shutter. "I wanted a peaceful life." He admitted. He nodded, not knowing quite what to reply to any of what the other had said. A peaceful life... That was his goal, in the beginning... when had it all fallen apart. No. He knew when that had been, the true question was, when had it become too nearly too late to fix..? "I understand..."  
Optimus only nodded his helm, slowly beginning to calm down the longer he was near the other mech. He couldn't shake the sudden feeling of vulnerability, but he supposed a part of him didn't want to. Instead, he allowed his optics to close, leaning a majority of his weight against the Decepticon. As the Prime relaxed into him, Megatron wrapped his servo's around the other, holding him securely. He tried to calm himself down a bit but every time he tried, his processor would start screaming at him. All of the dangers, all of the problems. His grip on the other tightened slightly. Optimus was beyond confused by how terribly blank his processors were becoming, but he could already feel himself beginning to sink into a haze. He was well aware that he needed to notify the base that he was still functioning, just so that his team wouldn't be worried sick for the next few cycles. But the sparkling was obviously taking precedence.  
"I-I'm in need of recharge.." Megatron pulled back slightly, "Then we should return in case Knockout is in need of the medbay." He let go of the other but stayed fairy close. "Can you walk?" Optimus nodded his helm, taking a step forward before he halted. He would later blame his actions on the war currently raging on inside his processors, but in that moment he simply didn't care. Without hesitation he tilted his helm up to kiss the Decepticon gently, lingering where he was, his EM fields practically radiating before he pulled away. "Thank you.." Megatron was frozen for what felt like a while after the unexpected kiss. It had been too quick for him to react and yet gone all too soon.  
He nodded, vocalizers refusing to work in the moment as he extended an arm for the other to lean on while getting up. Optimus was surprised by the fact that he actually smiled when the other offered to help him walk. In other instances, he may have refused the help, but this time he thankfully took it. They walked slowly, Megatron overly aware of the other's movements, making sure to allow the mech to lean on him, or pause if he stumbled. When they reached his quarters and the doors slid shut and locked, he finally relaxed a fraction. Optimus could hardly recall the journey from the medbay to Megatron’s quarters, his processors occasionally shorting out as they walked. He could only be sure that the two leaders must have made for an interesting sight by anyone passing by. "Remind me to contact my team when I awake."  
He mumbled, still choosing to rest against the mech rather than move on his own. "Alright,” he said simply, watching as the other came closer and closer to recharging while still standing, obviously exhausted from the stress and the energy going to their sparkling. "Here we go," ha said, leading Optimus over to the large berth.  
"Rest." Optimus barely hesitated to let his frame relax against the berth, still weakly holding onto Megatron’s arm. "Are you going to stay?" He mumbled tiredly. Megatron looked over the tired Prime as he settled into the berth, the feeling of the other's servo on his arm strangely comforting. "If that's what you want."  
Optimus smiled softly. "I believe so." He replied, before he allowed his optics to shut, going offline as he recharged. Megatron allowed himself to smile slightly as the mech's optics offlined. He set and the edge on the berth, placing a servo on the other's abdominal plating carefully; thinking about his sparkling and it's carrier.  
Megatron sat as still has he could, careful not to jostle the other mech on the berth too much. He had spent more than enough time letting his optics take in every small scratch and dent on the other's chassis; meanwhile his digits dragged slowly in small invisible patterns over the carrier's abdominal plating. He looked up slightly a the mech began to slowly come back online. Optimus couldn't pinpoint the last time he'd had a full recharge. The war had without a doubt taken a toll on his personal affairs, including how much free time he managed in between battles and caring for his team.  
So needless to say, when he awoke, he was in a decent enough mood to stay where he was, allowing Megatron remain where he was, servos moving in a soothing rhythm. "How long was I in stasis?" He mumbled, voice receptors still groggy. Megatron allowed himself to lean closer to the other's frame. His servo paused in its movement as he though. "Not long, only a few cycles." Optimus' optics glanced down at the sudden of stillness of Megatron’s servo, tilting his helm to the side with a hum.  
"It's been millenia since I've recharged that long." He murmurs, arching his back and settling himself again. Megatron tried to keep his optics from narrowing at the thought. "That can't be good for your health." With the Primes glance down at his servo, his movements continued on autopilot; digits lightly tracing where the plating met together. Optimus let out a contented ventilation when Megatron continued, bringing his attention back to the other mech.  
"Neither is a war." He replied, his tone obviously unamused- far be it from him to fault the mech for caring about his bitlet, but that concern he showed for him feels empty and false, another deception. But that didn't mean a small part of him wasn't aggravated by that fact. Megatron's servo paused in its motion, as did the rest of his form for a moment before he relaxed once more, venting heavily.  
"No," he said simply, tone devoid of any emotion, "I suppose not." Optimus frowned impatiently when Megatron halted again, raising an optic ridge until the Decepticon continued. "Hm. Although I will admit, war provides more free time than the archives. Ironic." He commented without thinking, still continuing to relax into the others touch. Megatron looked over at the other; the hint of a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. "This does seem to be true."  
He lay his servo flat against the other's abdominal plating, knowing there would be nothing and yet still hoping for just a moment that he might feel something more of the sparkling. He shook his helm, ever so slightly and returned to his previous motions. Optimus easily noticed the way Megatron purposefully paused, looking down to his abdominal plating before smiling ever so slightly. "You know, if you concentrate enough you can probably feel their sparkbeat." He stated. Megatron's optics looked up at him for a moment before his servo slowed once again, gradually coming to a stop.  
He pressed is servo flat, ever so slightly, mindful of his pressure as he tried to concentrate solely on the sparkling and its carrier. Optimus watched the Decepticon with mild curiosity, doing what he could to silent his own engine and systems. He'd only spent enough time to feel the small, rapid sparkbeat once, but he was sure that Megatron would easily be able to feel the second spark. Megatron smiled softly, any aggravation he had built up leaving in a wave as he sensed the tiny sparkbeat. He felt the new bond with the sparkling grow stronger at the sensation of the new life beneath his servo. Optimus couldn't remember a time when the Decepticon leader had suddenly seemed so... happy.  
Or perhaps he could. He wasn't truly sure anymore. What he was painfully aware of, was the way his own spark ached at the sight of Megatron fawning over the sparkling. It wasn't over the carrier. No. It would only ever be about the youngling they'd created. "Nice.. Isn't it?"  
He forced himself to speak. Megatron nodded looking over the carrier for a moment before turning his optics back to his own servo. "Yes..." he said simply. His servo traveled along the other's side, creating circles with his digits, not wanting to break contact with the other mech. Optimus allowed his functions to return back to normal when Megatron’s servo began to move again, doing his best to clear his processors in order to concentrate on the nice feeling against his frame. Slowly, he tilted his helm back, closing his optics peacefully. "That's enjoyable.." He finally admitted out loud, most traces of his previous thoughts disappearing. Megatron grinned once more, optics taking in the rare sight of the Prime actually beginning to relax. His servo continued on his side as he moved the other to do the same.  
"Is it?" he questioned, wanting to calm the carrier and avoid the stress from before. Optimus let out another hum and nodded his helm, ever so slightly arching his back struts into the mechs touch. "Very.." Even if his frame was over sensitive now that he was carrying, he could hardly speak up about it. Megatron's servos traveled up and down in a circular motion a few times before his processor started to catch up with him; fighting through the haze of both his sire instincts and the general attraction Optimus seemed to have on him.  
"When must you return?" he finally asked hesitantly. Optimus was practically jolted out of his relaxed haze when Megatron spoke about him returning, his frame suddenly tensing. He could only imagine how panicked his team must be at this point, and that Ratchet most definitely won't be impressed by his actions. "Soon." He sighed out. Megatron nodded, bring one servo back to his lap while the other localized itself once again on the mech’s abdominal plating. "Alright," was all he found himself able to say, not wanting to be away from the Prime or his sparkling longer than necessary.  
Optimus hardly noticed the mech’s soothing servos anymore, concentrating on what he was going to tell the others, and how everything would play out once he returned. He understood that he was obligated to, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. In fact, the whole prospect of even admitting to what he'd done was making him feel sick.  
"Now, actually. I need to leave now." He spoke quickly, hoping that perhaps if he got it all over with, then it wouldn't continue to drive him mad. Megatron's servo froze at his words, optics going up to look at the other mech. "Now?" His spark shuddered at the thought of the other departing do suddenly.  
Optimus nodded his helm quickly. "My team deserves to know the truth. Now that I won't be exterminating the sparkling, they will all have to be just as prepared."Megatron nodded, mouth suddenly dry and a odd pull in his vocalizer. He lifted his servo off the other's abdominal plating and moved forward so that he was on the edge of the berth, no longer leaning against the other. The loss of contact hit him like a jolt but he ignored it, choosing instead to turn his optics towards the ground. Optimus was only pulled out of his own cluttered thoughts when he realized Megatron was no longer near him. Finally, he moved his optics to where the other was. Ever so slowly he forced himself to move behind the Decepticon, leaning his helm against the others back struts.  
"I... I cannot guarantee when I will be able to return to the Nemesis. Ratchet will without a doubt be watching me closely." Optimus was only pulled out of his own cluttered thoughts when he realized Megatron was no longer near him. Finally, he moved his optics to where the other was. Ever so slowly he forced himself to move behind the Decepticon, leaning his helm against the others back struts.  
Optimus frowned when he noticed the others servo motions, his spark clenching momentarily in pain. And before he knew it, his processors were once again in a mess of emotion- the usually stoic Prime at a loss. The carrier protocol, he supposed as he moves to wrap himself around Megatron’s back plates laying kisses across the pointed shoulders. "Perhaps.. With some convincing, you could be allowed inside the base." He whispers as he kisses near the larger mech’s chin.. Megatron's servos unclenched with the Prime's gentle affectionate kisses but he chuckled dryly at the other's words.  
"Yes, I'm sure your medic would be thrilled with that idea, I think he was sparked despising me." he said. For a moment, he allowed himself to think about before the war and how much the small medic seemed to dislike him being anywhere near Orion. He doubted that the medic’s opinion had changed at all. Optimus let out a short burst of air through his vents. "Yes well, he's not really going to have a say in the matter." He stated. "He didn’t get himself sparked, and I certainly am not enduring this carrying cycle alone." Megatron smiled a bit at the thought of the sparkling, even if Optimus' mood swings would gradually get worse.  
"I suppose you're right." It would be worth it, he decided after a moment. He leaned back ever so slightly to be closer to the carrier once again. Optimus leaned up enough to nudge his helm against the others, pressing a few more kisses against the metal there. He couldn't explain why he suddenly felt so affectionate towards the sire. Perhaps it was because of the bond they now indisputably shared. But nonetheless, his pending anxiety was beginning to fade, and that was more than a relief. Megatron vented heavily,turning his helm to look more directly at the other mech. Megatron couldn’t help but muse that the easy affection reminded him of a love long past and a loss as cutting as thee loss of his beloved…  
"Do you think it's best that I leave now.. Or stay a while longer?" He inquired, leaving the decision up to the Decepticon. Megatron looked into the other's optics for a moment longer before shaking his helm. He wanted to other to stay, truly he did... but Optimus had his own medic to see and his own men to command. “I think you should. I’m beginning to feel disinclined towards you leaving.” Optimus' optics widened momentarily at Megatron’s tone, nodding his helm slowly.  
"If that's the case, may I contact my base for a groundbridge?" He requested, gradually beginning to move away from the other. Megatron leaned slightly towards the other even as Optimus moved away, part of him wishing he had chosen to make the other stay with him a while longer. "Of course." It didn't take long for Optimus to contact Ratchet, the medic’s questions delayed for another time. And then, he was left to wait a few moments, glancing back at Megatron. "I will.. Contact you if anything is wrong." He finally spoke. "But do not forget your end of the deal. Do not attack anyone on this planet. Or my team."  
"I understand." Although what Starscream might do on his own he didn't quite have control over but he decided not to mention it. He'd deal with that problem when it arose. He only glanced at the ground bridge before turning his optics back to Optimus. "And you will make sure not to strain yourself, correct?" Optimus quickly glanced to the floor, halting for a moment before he nodded his helm. "If I inform Ratchet that I am carrying the sparkling to full term, then he should be more than compliant to make sure it is done safely." He assured the mech. Megatron nodded, despite his general disdain for Ratchet, he had no doubt that the medic would ensure the health of Optimus and the sparkling.  
For now, that was all that he could truly hope for. Optimus was frozen in place for a second longer, all of his carrier protocols clamoring for him to stay with Megatron. Suddenly, he feels clawed servos draw his face level with Megatron’s. “Go, Optimus. We shall think of a way for our sparkling to grow up safe and strong. Perhaps there are answers this will reveal to us. Perhaps this sparkling is just the beginning of the Cybertron I dreamed in the first edition of Towards Peace. Nothing is certain, but nor is it hopeless.” There’s a soft press of lips to his own, and the other mech nudges his shoulders square before giving his most reassuring smile, one that seems comical on his face plates. “You always did jump on any opportunity to make a speech, Megatron.” Optimus says as he strides resolutely through the bridge.


	3. What you get is Happy Never After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor OP.. Sorry that is suck with posting consistently I'm so sorry

            Optimus Prime is still a young mech by the standards of the Golden Age of Cybertron. Most of his knowledge and wisdom is derived from the sacred artifact in his chest. But if a Prime has ever carried before, the artifact is not forthcoming on any advise, visions, or support, Optimus ruefully thinks as he limply drops his helm back onto the grated floor of the base’s improvised wash racks. His team is still waiting for an explanation of what happened on the Nemesis, but when they’d gathered for their energon rations- the instant the liquid had touched his glossa, he’d purged. And hadn’t stopped for more than 10 breems at a time for the full measure of three earth days. Ratchet had started him on energon in an IV drip, and his fuel had begun to cramp from emptiness but any attempt to fuel began a new wave of retching.  
            He found himself exhausted and weak, Ratchet’s scans only irritated him at this point. The door of the wash rack rattling and then opening didn’t prompt him to online his optics until the unceremonious clatter of some one taking their seat behind him. “Ratchet, if you are going to sit there and watch me purge I swear on the Allspark I will start purging on you.”  
There’s an appraising low rumble of a flight engine behind him. Definitely not Ratchet. He startles, but can’t quite get himself upright. “No, no need to stand on ceremony, Optimus.” Megatron’s voice is wry and low in an almost soothing way if he weren't both responsible for the current purging and currently being a sarcastic aft. Optimus blindly swings an elbow bad and hears a satisfying clang and a pained noise behind him before he goes limp again, exhausted by even that effort. Megatron doesn’t actually move, and laughs lowly. “You’re right, Prime. Perhaps making light of the misery of the carrier of my first born is uncouth.”  
              Megatron shifts and settles nearer the the Prime’s back, close enough Optimus can feel the heat of his engines. “I have informed your crew of your ah- dalliance, and its consequences while you were purging. I also rather generously informed them we were drafting a peace treaty.”  
“Are we now?” Optimus murmurs, unable the lift his voice for the rawness of his throat.  
             The warlord reaches and turns the wash racks on before resettling at Optimus’ back “It would be fitting. After all, we can hardly raise a sparking at odds as we are. And I rather think that if I do not the more loyal of my followers will desert.”  
              The Prime hums skeptically. “One of your cons deserting over a sparkling? Forgive my skepticism but you had really better find a better excuse.”  
“Soundwave has been separated from all but one of his symbiotes for nearly a centivorn. The mech is beginning to worry me.”  
There’s another quite skeptical hum from the Prime, and Megatron can’t help but continue. “He’s been trying to bud again. He sent me a request for leave before i announced you’re carriage. He retracted it, of course, after Knockout rather insistently veto’d him for medical reasons.”  
              “He’s ill?”  
              “No, he would be if he budded again though. Knockout said he could either get bonded and bud again a few vorns after that or he could conceive naturally with a donating partner.”  
              “Interesting. Isn’t this private, however?”  
               “After Knockout saw the request and marched onto the command deck to give Soundwave a public talking too? By which I mean screaming at him for a good quarter shift? You likely would have heard about it soon.”  
               “That is extremely unprofessional.”  
                The warlord shrugs. “No more unprofessional than your CMO was at Knockout’s age. And the vehicons began bringing him trinkets afterwords. They favor him over the rest of the command staff I think. One of them, a miner unit by the designation D4r3LL-“  
                 “Did you just say his name was Darell?”  
Megatron huffs, “They choose their own names. And they spend most of their off shifts on the human internet. There’s also ST3V3 and ChR1S. D4r3LL is the crew chief of communications, ST3V3 is a land based scout, and ChR1S is an eradicon squadron commander. Starscream is rather fond of him even though he’s utterly suicidal.”  
                 Megatron’s voice is quiet- not the booming volume it usually takes with his troops. There’s a Kaoni accent to his words he usually disguises as he continues to speak, though Optimus no longer hears the words, but the massive frame behind him lulls him to sleep with his heat and the gentle rise and fall of his voice pulls Optimus into a much needed recharge.  
Megatron feels the other mech’s field even into recharge that grows deeper as the minutes pass, and after it becomes clear that the Prime is most likely not going to wake to purge again he comms the tiny medic- as much as he dislikes the mech it’s unlikely Optimus would agree to a medic as inexperienced in obstetrics as Knockout as a primary physician for the length of his carriage. He’d never liked the way ratchet had looked at him like he was some how less a mech than he was.  
                   The medic doesn’t answer the comm, but brusquely strides into the wash racks with his scanner and moves the energon transfuser to a obviously hand made pole. “I’ve been reviewing my obstetric text. Removal of the Sire’s presence can cause violent fits of purging in the carrier especially if the relationship is.. unstable.” The medic states, with a caustic glare and at the large grey mech. Megatron meets his gaze with an annoyed flicker in his field and a tugging of newly activated protocols.  
                   “As much as I’m sure that pains you, I will send for Knockout if you are unable to remain professional. I am responsible for this sparkling. I am going to be their sire, and your Prime, who was once my Orion the mech I intended to bond to, is going to be their carrier. I have duties both emotional an physical to the carrier of my sparkling I refuse to shirk. And you will cease your attempts to convince Optimus I mean ill-“ the medic scoffs and opens his mouth before Megatron cuts him off, “NO- you have no right to interrupt me or make this more difficult than it must be. I will allow no one- not even Optimus’ oldest friend- to endanger the welfare of my new spark or my carrying mate. Your attempts to drive me away- as I’m certain that if not for your medical coding you would have argued for the termination of the sparkling the instant you discovered its parentage.”  
Optimus shifts and groans sleepily drawing the warlord’s attention again as the medic shifts on his pedes and seeks out a diagnostic port now he’s completed the scans. Megatron’s taloned servos are almost immediately on the Primes face, stroking gently, soothing his mate.  
                    “I see the sire protocols are at least functional. Inconvenient that they’ve classed me the, Autobot CMO as a threat. But. Functional.”  
The warlord glares at the much smaller mech. “Maybe if the Autobot CMO was less of a potential threat to my carrying mate’s emotional state and less interested in picking fights over an unresolved mechling crush. I know I have a great deal to atone for. But after everything- after 4 million years, after Unicron, it was like I was myself as I have not been since before I left the pits. I have lost control of this war just as Optimus had… I do not wish for my newspark to know violence as ill contained as this.”  
                   “I after all this time, after all the times Optimus has tried to negotiate for peace, this is what it took? A single newspark? Bah!” Ratchet scoffs.  
                     “No sparkling of mine will suffer as I did. That is why I spoke out in the pits, then on the data-net then to the council. Now. Unless you have any professional wisdom to impart get out. I’m done sparkling sitting you. I will have Knockout in contact with you in the next sol."

 


	4. Why’d You Have to Go and Make Things So Complicated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize in advance about everything in this chapter regarding architecture and setting. I like to have some description of where I am, especially if its a new setting. But I swear, it's kind of relevant at least. In many cultures, creating a family together and creating a home together often involves actually building/ moving into a new home. In Kaon, a place where its generally poorer than Iacon, having a home, a Sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world and a place of peace for ones family would be extremely important. Either mate can construct this new home but it is more customary for the mech who started the relationship or the mech who is currently a sire to do so depending on the situation.  
> I also changed some things, so in this work, Kaon traditionally holds bonding as extremely sacred, and consider political bondings tantamount to sacrilege. The only exception is in cases like Optimus and Megatron's where the political aspect comes after a mech is carrying.  
> Kaon is a very action based culture. You show you feelings by action. You give gifts, you find opportunities to help your mate.  
> Iacon is much more about words and public declarations. Small gifts are common but anything large is considered unusual.  
> So be forewarned that this may be part of the plot again because Optimus and Megatron know much less about each other's cultures than they should.

        Optimus recovers from the nausea quicker than even Ratchet had expected. Megatron’s presence is a boon and a curse however, Optimus muses as the silver mech shifts yet again on the poorly padded berth in his quarters, blinking blearily. The fifth time he’d been woken that night. “If I had known you were prone to thrashing in berth I don’t believe I would have ever fragged you.”

       “I don’t thrash. This may be the most supremely uncomfortable berth I have ever recharged in- I had better padded berths in the fragging mines.” The warlord growls. That… that Optimus couldn’t deny. The berths the U.S government had graciously granted them were perhaps inferior to even the floor. As he opens his mouth to speak the berth shifts again and the warlord’s patience for the discomfort of Optimus’ barely padded berth runs out.

       “I know you have some strange affection for these organics, Optimus but this is ridiculous. Your energon dispensers are like a mechling’s science project, your berths are below current prison standards, there’s not even a proper washrack. It’s A Prime pandering to a human government is bad enough but there’s sand everywhere. I understand that your mechs are unwilling to board the Nemesis but there must be some way to compromise? Perhaps somewhere not linked to a human government?” The Prime groans.

            “I merely want to recharge. If it is within your means to create some sort of joint base and solve whatever accommodation issues you have without harming any indigenous lives or cultures, feel free. If you cannot mute your vocalizer and be still, get out of my berth.” The warlord huffs and tosses his legs off the side of the small berth and stands, scowling as his cables twinge in protest. He stretches himself out before departing the Prime’s quarters smirking.

                He pings Soundwave and Starscream his mate’s cession. Megatron may be playing nice but he damn well knew what he wanted and how to bring his stubborn mate over to his side. Granted, it never worked if it was against Optimus’ morals. But a few weeks poor rest was nothing he wasn’t accustomed to. And if all that it took to resolve was a few orders to his command staff and a bit of pointed complaining over the course of a few months as the sparklet grew, well. He was still the lord of the Decepticons. Megatron leaves the Autobot base to attend his duties on the Nemesis idly wondering how much Optimus would allow him to influence the sparkling’s frame when construction finally started. When he arrives on deck and takes his commanding officers reports from his terminal, there’s a respect that’s been growing in Starscream’s optics in the vids, and a quiet approval in Soundwave’s field he’d not felt since the beginning of the war. Starscream approves of him taking responsibility.

              Soundwave approves of making peace as equals and demanding respect. Both approve of the confirmation that they’d soon be reunited with those they’d long been apart from. And both were dreading the confirmed Autobot arrivals. Jazz and Prowl were arriving in command of a full Autobot battleship. Ultra Magnus was arriving with a second. If the remaining members of Starscream’s trine were not piloting a second warship in it would have been a genuine cause for panic. The crew was on edge as it was. Hopefully, with Starscream reunited with his trine and Soundwave with a full complement of symbionts The Wreckers and Autobot Spec-Ops would be deterred from igniting hostilities while the treaty is scripted. The base that Soundwave, Starscream, and the newly arrived Constructicons had crafted to serve as neutral ground and as a gift to Prime would hopefully pass muster. In Kaon, the Gifting of Sanctuary was the first step of a Bonding Courtship.

                 To give any less to the Autobot’s Prime was an insult Megatron did not wish to make, if any Autobot remembered the traditions of Kaon. Enough Decepticons remembered and respected it that it would be worth it in any case. ::Does Lord Megatron: wish to inspect his gift to Orion?:: Soundwave pings.

                Megatron snarls. “He is not Orion again merely because he is bearing me a newspark.”

               ::Lord Megatron: wishes he was.::

                Megaton clenches his fist. “That is enough Soundwave. We both know that Orion is gone, most likely for good. If you were not my closest confidant and my oldest friend, I would slag you for that.”

               ::Megatron: would try. Soundwave: always superior. Soundwave: helping. Orion: hidden, grieving, not gone. Prime’s carriage: has Orion stirring. Soundwave: Telepath. Knows these things. Megatron: nurture bond with creation, nurture kindness in his spark. Orion: will wake, integrate with persona: Optimus Prime. Soundwave: thought this impossible before newspark. Megatron: must make effort however. Megatron: reverting back to wartime ways: will lose what is left of Orion Pax. Megatron: must court to bond seriously. Megatron- must win trust of mecha again. Must win: Prime’s spark.::

                “It has been a long time since you lectured me.” The warlord huffs

                . ::Megatron’s spark: clouded with darkness for many vorn. Megatron’s intent: hidden from Soundwave for many vorn. Megatron: sent away Soundwave’s symbionts for many vorn. Megatron: banished Starscream’s trine for many vorn. Darkness: prevented Megatron from hearing. Soundwave: protects youngest current symbiont. Soundwave: silent for Laserbeak in face of: darkness of spark. Darkness: gone. Soundwave: pings advice now. Soundwave: will speak soon. When war: is over: Soundwave will speak: Soundwave will remove vocal filter. Soundwave: will sing again.::

                “Darkness in my spark?” the silent mech dips his head at his Lord. “I have felt quite different of late. Since the dark energon was purged from my systems. The insistant feeling that Starscream is going to usurp me is less. I suppose he is less annoying when I allow him to do his job.” 

                ::And: Soundwave?::

                “I was a fool to separate your family from you. How could you let me?” The warlord’s brows dropped into a glare.

               ::Soundwave: prevented Megatron from worse. Soundwave: prays darkness does not return. Soundwave: wishes priesthood would have accepted him. Telepaths: have few refuges. Soundwave: believes that training denied: could have saved: Megatron from spark-break. Orion: wished to bond. Darkness: effected Megatron greatly. Soundwave: fears it will return. Darkness: unnatural, unlike Megatron.::

                 “You seem very worried about this 'darkness.' I do not take over much stock in deities but I will look into it, since you’re so worried.” The warlord replied as they stride through the ground bridge to look over the base that will hopefully be the first home Megatron’s firstborn knew.

               It was situated on an island far into international waters, carved into the stubborn solid granite that jutted arrogantly out of the waves. Damp sand caught in tide pools and rock faces and the pools were a riotously colorful display for a future curious sparkling. The Constucticons had carved neat roads, landing strips and massive double doors for the entry- visibly guarded by large cannons similar to the ones the Nemesis sported, no doubt there were also numerous escape routes. So far, both mechs approved greatly.

                ::Lord Megatron: should ask Prime for pleasure merge. Strengthens: bond with newspark. Traditional: in Iaconian courtship at this stage. Matrix: in a true Prime: great force against darkness.::

                  “Lord Megatron will consider it. Soundwave ought remember that it is not his business to advise his lord on interfacing matters, telepath or not.” Megatron answered dryly. The dark mech’s field flicks in embarrassment.

                  ::Soundwave: is sorry. Soundwave: forgets other mecha: only have their own fantasy and experiences. Soundwave: sees much he does not wish too.::

                   “I remember old friend. Which is why I reminded you. If Optimus is anything like Orion, you should remember not to mention interface around him.” Soundwaves field flickers in amusement.

                 ::Orion: a hedonist. Prime: has not had Megatron since newspark was conceived. Soundwave: wishes Lord Megatron’s proposal success: wishes renewal of relations for: Megaton and Prime. Interface: good for carriers and sires. Soundwave: will try to avoid his lord’s pleasure.:: Megatron laughed.

                  “Try Soundwave? I would expect better of my ever competent third in command.” The warlord jokes.

                  ::Lord Megatron: pays little attention to surroundings while engaged. Orion: shameless. Soundwave: has seen more of both than desired.:: If a ping could sound exasperated, this one did, Megatron muses as his faceplates flare with heat and his interface panel pings at the memories.

                  Orion had definitely seemed mild mannered when they first met. But Iacon was much more relaxed about interface than Kaon in many ways. When Megatron had asked Orion if he’d like to maybe explore interface as part of their relationship he’d had no idea what he’d gotten into. Some of it- much of it was that as Soundwave had said, Orion was a hedonist. The rest was that he was accustomed to living where he was encouraged in it, so long as he slipped into a club or attended a friend’s party. The fact semi-public interface in Kaon was uncommon in the extreme had surprised Orion. The fact that it was only really practiced in the Gladiator Pits had been Soundwave’s personal nightmare. He can vividly rememb- Megatron almost fell face first onto the floor when Soundwave delivered a swift kick to the back of the warlord’s knee.

                 ::Megatron: review base and future quarters for courting gift. Soundwave: truly has seen more than desired: wishes Megatron: would exercise restraint. Soundwave: is leaving. Starscream: is waiting to give tour. Lord Megatron: pay attention to fruit of command staff’s labor. Starscream: will shriek if Megatron is rude. Starscream: is a prince. Princes: accustomed to respect. Megatron: will give it.:: His annoyed third spun on heel and left through a groundbridge. Starscream waited down the hall, smirking in obvious amusement. “Old Sounders not much for your reminiscing, eh? He does like to let mecha have some privacy despite his _gift_ you know.”

                “That is quite enough. If you will show me the base so I can find if it needs any touches to make it more comfortable for my mate I would be obliged. I want him moved in before frame construction starts.”

                  “What’s the rush? Big bad warlord afraid of some organics?” The small flier teases, more fearless and more flippant than Megatron is used to. It might be nice if it gets to where Starscream isn’t a treasonous glitch.

              “No, Starscream. But construction is the only part of creating where one is meant to… have more fun than conception. The Autobots current improvised- well everything, is unconducive to that.”

               “Well, then perhaps we should just let you review the shared quarters built for the happy couple who have a lot of fragging to do.” Starscream says slyly- as if he’s capable of saying anything in a way that doesn’t sound conniving whether it is or not.

                  “I look forward to it. You won’t be there for one,” the larger mech retorts, following the smirking, apparently uncowed seeker deeper into the base and into the large well-lit suite that would belong to their little family.

                 The entry is a large room with a flickering fire place and one wall is covered in a massive aquarium. Apparently, the tide pools had inspired someone. The energon preparation area was large enough for both Prime and warlord to stand in and not bump into each other. Starscream pointed out that the room was connected via two elevators on either side of the front wall to two separate, very well secured offices. Down the hall there was a main bedroom and wash rack and a nursery alcove- the alcove a time-honored Kaon tradition as well as the curtain and four post style of the berth a nod to the flowing mesh fabric the region had once been famous for. The thickly woven plush blankets and rugs were a nod to Iacon- as well as the carved details. “I never could have hoped for better. Thank you Starscream.” Megatron managed when he finally managed to online his vocalizer.

*

                     Optimus onlined alone. Not uncommon with Megatron’s continued duty on the Nemesis. He stretched out on the berth- Primus. In between the fact he was carrying and the fact Megatron had pointed it out the berths seemed to be getting more uncomfortable. What was unusual was the set of unanswered text-pings. He opens the first one.

            ::Good orn, my mate. In regards to your prior permission, I have a place I would like you to inspect at your leisure. It meets all of your anticipated demands, based on your fondness of this planet’s organic organisms. I have attached full documentation on environmental impact, survey video and video evidence that the location was uninhabited and that no organics, sentient or non-sentient were intentionally harmed and that all efforts were made toward prevention unintentional harm were made. Your mate, Megatron.::

             ::Megaton is spouting something about better accommodations and a proper med bay? He said something about getting ahold of the parts to fix my vocalizer properly? That is was the least he could do for harming so young a mech? Optimus I’m really confused. He apologized to ME?- Bumblebee, Infantry Scouting Division::

             ::Optimus, Megatron just promised me I could have Arachnid’s helm on a pike if I wanted, but any active duty Decepticons I have an issue with I need to submit a formal complaint and he will deal with it. I have no idea what he’s trying to butter us up for but I don’t like it.-Arcee, AISD::

                Oh Primus. Optimus groans and opens the next message.

               ::Optimus, Megatron has graciously invited the crew of The Sanguine to inspect a joint base meant in equal parts as a courting gift to you and a gesture of his commitment towards peace for your sparkling. Jazz and every front-liner and ops agent we have scoured it up and down. It’s immaculate, and in rather good taste for a place to have a sparkling. First Aid, and Ambulon were very excited to re-unite with Ratchet, as he was a former mentor to First Aid. Both say the med bay is “a thing of beauty.” Please remain aware that this represents a courting gift referred to formally as “The Gifting of Sanctuary” and is part of the traditional Kaoni spark bonding courtship. Be advised that there is legal precedent for using this process alone or in combination with Iaconian traditions to legally put an end to the war. As it is the only way that has come up to end the war as you wished to- without an actual battle I advise you do not squander the opportunity. I would also like to request time for my own bonding to Jazz immediately after the traditional sequester. Also, be advised that reparations will be demanded for both Vos and Praxus. Jazz has found definitive proof that Sentinel Prime was responsible not only for Vos but for Praxus being bombed. Files indicate that he ordered his mechs to bomb Vos while disguising themselves as Praxian flight frames and ground frames. Then created false information he leaked to Vos. Reparations for both cities will most likely come out of the Primal Treasury. The case will be easy to make for limitations on the power of the Primacy. Be prepared. Prowl, Autobot Second in Command and Chief Tactician.::

                ::You should have tried fragging the mech ages ago- these new digs are sweet- Jazz, ISO, Autobot Spec-Ops.::

                “Primus fraggit to the pit and back,” Optimus groaned. He vaguely remembers bleary-eyed irritation and snapping something at the pit-be-damned warlord.

                When he finally drags his aching frame out of berth and finds Megatron, Optimus finds that carrying had more of an effect on his temper and self-control than he’d though. He watches distantly as his fist slides through the air and feels his body follow, delivering a solid strike to the warlord’s jaw, sending him sprawling easily. “I do not appreciate being manipulated into concessions. You would do well to remember, mate of mine.” The Prime growls.

             The warlord rubs at his jaw and smirks up at the Prime with dimmed optics. There’s a primal portion of his processor that hums in appreciation. “I wouldn’t have to be manipulative if you could cease with the self-sacrificing idiocy, Prime. You know little of my culture and my customs for all we’ve fought. When I initially brought the subject up you shut me down out of some idiotic belief that someone going out of their way to give you anything was too much, you over-modest aft. In Kaon, denying the carrier of your sparkling entry to a common home is to deny the child. The Gifting of Sanctuary is both a tentative step toward spark bonding by courtship right, and a practical step in beginning a family. One that I will not skimp on or skip… please at least come to see what has been built for you before you reject me.”

              “Your culture? What about mine, Megatron? What about my courting gifts and pretty words, gentle touches, what about public declarations of our relationship? What about merging around our bitlet… building yourself as equal a bond as you can still manage before they migrate to their frame? Are you willing to give at least that much to me? And what is expected of me as you court me?” The prime is livid and Megatron fears he has gravely miscalculated.

               “You will have all that I can give, as often as I can manage so long as you are forward enough to ask it. I know little of formal Iaconian courtship, as you know little of a formal Kaoni courtship. Optimus, if this goes well you will be my light my first duty will belong to you. Kaon regarded bonding as truly the most sacred thing that can be between two mecha. Bearing my newspark doesn’t mean that you must accept my suite.” The silver mech replied.

           “I will not be relegated to the status of your bonded. My Autobots will not be second class to your people. I will not be relegated out of politics and off the battlefield to decorate your berth. I wi-” Megatron snarls in absolute rage.

                  “DO NOT- You will not. Accuse. Me. Of desecrating a bond in such a way.” The warlord is on his feet and advancing, Optimus backing himself into a wall in shock. Megaton follows, pressing his back plates into the wall and pressing their frames close.

               “Bonded mecha are _equal_. It is an affront to Primus to do what the planet’s nobility and Iacon did making it a political bargaining chip and systematically abusing whichever mech held the role of carrier. I have been a slave, Optimus Prime. I refuse to make my _bonded_ a slave in my house. I _refuse_ to be made a slave in my house. Regardless of petty Iacon traditions that is an abomination that have no place with me.” The words come out in a low snarl next to Optimus’ audial.

               “You are my equal in battle. You have been and will be my equal in my berth, in ruling Cybertron, in raising our sparkling. Your Autobots and my Decepticons can take the place our extended families would traditionally hold in Kaon. You are carrying for me this time. If you so wish I will carry for you. If you do not desire interface, your right to deny me is equal to my right to deny you. I have allowed you to deny me based on you distaste for the lack of privacy since we confirmed the carriage. That will continue. I will make peace for my bitlet. I made war for the one I lost after the council meeting. I burned the world at their feet for that loss. I burned it for their theft of my mate, Orion Pax. I will do no less for this second chance- I know you do not remember being Orion. I know you didn’t know I was carrying at that council meeting. I know you didn't know about the attack that made me loose the sparkling. I am not attempting to garner your pity. In fact, your pity would shame me. I want you to take me seriously. Optimus, please accept my most sincere declaration of intent. I know this carriage was not intended by either of us, but please allow me to do what I can to make this as solid as I am able for our family, allow me to atone for what evil I have done. Please, if you may inspect my gift I will only pray you do not find it lacking.” The warlord is beseeching and soft, nuzzling against Optimus’ sensitive audials and his face.

               “This will not be the last time our cultures will clash.” The Prime begins, resetting his vocalizer. “We have much to learn of each other, and I do not pretend I will not need more explanation on some of this. But we will go to this base you have built. I will require some research materials however. I will also attempt to obtain materials so I may share my culture with you.”          

                  The warlord nods and leans back so Optimus is no longer pressed to the wall. “It’s become too easy to forget that Cybertron was not one culture and one people prior to the war with how homogenous military culture is. I have every hope we can nurture some return of the cultures.. Now, shall we tour the base and then greet the new arrivals?” Megatron says, smiling as tenderly as his marred visage will allow, and Optimus finds himself responding with a small smile of his own.

                “Certainly. If all goes well would you be willing to resume the more physical aspect of our relationship? Maybe strengthen your sparklet, if you’re amiable?” The Prime ventures tentatively.

               “Well. I will certainly try the ah, spark merging. I had not gotten accustomed to the idea before Orion was lost to me. It may take a little longer to get my chest plates open. Making the acquaintance of your array, however, is never a chore.” The warlord poses.

                “Try? You have not merged before?” The Prime is somewhat shocked by this revelation. He’d known that merging was rare except outside of Iacon, Vos and Praxus but to have never?

                “I’ve never even touched my own spark, and only seen the sparks of others in violence. It just isn’t done at all in Kaon, Tarn, Polyhex, Rodion. The majority of the southern hemisphere didn’t practice pleasure merging. Vos was the only exception. Some couples only see each other’s the first time sparks their bonding orn.” Megatron replies.

                 “Well. I suppose it is a topic that seldom comes up when one is the Prime. I was unware that the custom not to engage in any merging prior to bonding was so widespread. I do not wish for you to be uncomfortable however. It makes things unpleasant. If pleasure of the frame is better for growing closer to it we don’t need to rush,” He answers, optics bright and earnest.  

                 “I wish to. I often regret not knowing Orion’s spark. I wish to know yours. Thank you, however for being so considerate of me.” The silver mech takes his servo and gently interlaces their digits, leading him toward the ground bridge.

                  “Allow me to show you what I hope you will accept as our family home.” The mech’s field is ever so slightly nervous as he leads his mate into the ground bridge. The base has a sort of utilitarian elegance that suits its function as a sort of military base. However, while the utilitarian minimalism is certainly present, there’s a warmth incorporated in the details that makes it seem like the family homes he’d seen in Kaon’s architecture. The lights were dimmer and warmer toned, the stone walls were carved with patterns, there were no corners- instead the halls flowed in and out of each other by opening into rounded domes in true Kaon style. And every hall was wide enough for mechs to drive in two divided lanes going either direction, and equipped to do so. Pillars inside the domes sported holos of announcements and traffic signals, the rec rooms, common areas and the apartments that would serve whomever was stationed here were uniformly pleasant.

              The highest floors held apartments for fliers and seekers, open to the air with heavy storm shutters in waiting. The lowest levels, meant for frame types accustomed to living under ground had just the slightest Polyhexian flare, as they were the most common frame type to live below ground. Officer quarters were spread throughout the base but connected to offices that were adjacent through cleverly engineered elevators. The brig was large, sturdy and well enough equipped to keep errant mechs in line, but with the number of cameras and other security features it would be extremely difficult for a guard to abuse the position of authority without being caught.

                They found Prowl, Jazz, Red Alert, Springer and Ultra Magnus in the security hub in fervent discussion with a silent Soundwave who was none the less getting his points across through field, gesture, and well timed audio playbacks. Starscream looked amused at the whole thing, but was working quite effectively with the silent TIC in making the Autobot commanders understand that a joint base meant cooperation, and cooperation meant they had to work together. The faction leaders barely managed to get out mostly unnoticed, aided by Jazz and Soundwave. Jazz had flashed his visor with a lewd grin. Soundwave had flashed a winking emoticon on his visor.

              Megatron had had to physically carry the shocked Prime away while suppressing the urge to laugh. When the tour of the base as a whole was completed and the entered their quarters- which Megatron had opened with a showy flourish that had Optimus momentarily stricken. Only Megatron could find away to dramatically key in a door code.

               It was beautiful. The aquarium added a calm sort of life to the main living space. There were thick, plush rugs and blankets in the seating area and a vid screen. The wall between the elevators to their office was filled with data pads. The engergon prep area was large enough for both mechs. The berth room continued the elegant mix of Kaoni and Iaconian décor and architecture. But to Optimus, the berth was the best thing he’d seen in millennia.

                   He appreciates the rest and is charmed by the little nursery alcove they have in addition to the extra bedrooms that line the hall. But the berth outshines even the washracks and the hot oil pool. The Prime presses his servo into the padding and is met with thick, plush supportive padding. In his excitement he rolls himself onto the berth with a moan better suited to a porn-vid star than a Prime, sprawling across the plush mesh covers and feeling his struts relaxing into berth. Megatron’s field is a hot flare of lust and he takes in the loose-limbed sprawl and the Prime’s pleased rumbling. “I suppose I can forgive you for being a manipulative aft.”

                   “You suppose?” Megatron questions, confused. “I suppose. I don’t believe you apologized. But,” the Prime pauses and rolls his hips, releasing his panel “I think you can take the opportunity to apologize.”

                      “Oh?” Red optics meet blue and the silver mech is using every ounce of restraint he has not to jump the pretty little Prime. He lets his optics rake across the small frame appraisingly and lets his modesty panel retract, moving onto the berth, in between the prime’s splayed thighs. Right up until one pede meets his chest plates. “You’ll do so with your head between my thighs. Since running your mouth is how we got into this argument you can do something productive with it.” Megatron’s face heated in embarrassment.

                   “I hadn’t expected this to come with ventures into bondage and dirty talk without a discussion, Prime.”

                    “Hmm. Its making you real-ly hot though. Traffic light system fine? Red for full stop, yellow for if your uncomfortable, green is more. And if I wind up on top of your face and you need to stop tap my hip twice. That work for you?” Optimus purrs thumbing his node and giving his pressurizing spike an encouraging stroke.

                      “Well enough so long as you don’t leave me unsatisfied and aching at the end of it.” He replies. Optimus removes his pede from Megatron’s chest. “Good. Very good. Now. Can you keep your spike retracted until I ask for it?” Optimus’ optics are fever bright with arousal.

                      As the warlord nods, curious as to how similar the Prime and Orion’s play actually was. “Good. You may pleasure whatever part of my array you wish with your mouth. Play with your valve. I’m sure you don’t often enough. I would like you to overload while you please me. When I’m done with your mouth, I’m going to take your valve until my spike want stay extended any more. Then You can spike me as much as you want. If I offline you have my permission to continue until you’re sated, unless it makes you uncomfortable. Color?” Primus below.

                       Matrix or no Matrix this mech was a hedonist right down to the spark. Megatron could feel his valve dripping from that field, and that voice. Those lewd promises. “Green,” he whispers, reaching down to cup his valve and bending his face into the array before him.

                       Orion had wanted to be worshiped. The Prime wanted the same. “Hmm. Please. Start with yourself first. I want to feel your field in pleasure when you latch onto me.” Optimus orders softly. Megatron gasp and spreads his folds to insistently rub his node. A devious bit of his brain reminds him of a little touch he put in the quarters and he pings the double doors to the room closed so that the mirrors reflect his aft and valve for his lovely mate.

                      Optimus’ shocked moan as Megatron draws his aft up and spreads himself for the mirror has him tugging at- slag. Optimus’ hips buck into the warlord’s face where he’s rested it teasingly against his valve as he plays with the piercing on his node, spread lewdly and absolutely dripping between the tugs and insistent rubbing, the little node flashing tauntingly as it appears and disappears between taloned digits, Megaton chooses that moment to take Optimus’ twitching spike in his intake. Optimus is too caught by surprise not to shout. He can see the mech sliding digits gingerly into his over valve as his glossa flicks against the head of his spike and Primus- Megatron scrapes sharpened dente gently across his spike as he pressed his face plates into Optimus’ pelvis, letting the blue mech’s spike slide down his intake with ease before rolling his hips around his spread digits so Optimus could see the flicker of his internal nodes and the give of his valve and then. With the Prime’s blue optics wide and transfixed, mouth sagging in shock, thighs shaking around Megaton’s helm, he began to suck and bob at the spike in his mouth. Both mechs are hopelessly aroused but Megatron is settled knowing what Optimus wants is what Orion wanted so long ago. It’s no trouble for him to comply. He wants to. He wants to be rewarded in whatever way his pretty mech can imagine. He is happy to be in between the mech’s thighs. His mate. Optimus. Orion. The spark is the same, either way, he’s certain in this moment. His sun and sky. When Optimus bucks in overload he swallows greedily until the spike in his mouth softens. Then he begins to suckle the pretty, unadorned valve. So wet. His vision is blurry as he drags his gloss up the length of the valve before him.

                   “Primus. Megatron!” Megatron pulls his head away from the Prime.

                    “Tell me I’m good. Tell I’m pretty,” he pants, gasping and whining as he bucks against his own hand.

                    “Megatron,” Optimus reeling from his overload still and Megatron’s desperate ministrations as he gasps and sucks at his valve.

                    “Look at you,” Prime purrs looking up at the inspiring sight of the pale silver and purple valve spreading over the mech’s own digit, aft bobbing as he pushes himself back on them, and then down at the equally inspiring vision that is the warlord thrusting his glossa deep into his valve. “Oh look at you. So inspiring. So happy between my thighs. Such a pretty valve.”

                   He stops to moan breathily as Megatron tugs at his nod with scarred lips then begins to suck at it for all he’s worth. “So good, so sweet. Oh, pretty mech. Spread yourself for me.” He bucks his hips into Megatron’s mouth gasping. “Let me see you ripple and flicker.” Megatron complies easily.

                 “Good mech,” Optimus is close to coming again, and he can see every sign Megatron is just as close. “Spread your legs wider like I’m pounding that pretty valve.”

                 He gasp, “Touch me, frag me with your pretty claws,” The Prime’s hips roll desperately as Megatron obeys.

                  “Tug that pretty piercing let me see you clench on nothing, let me see you drip down your thighs. Gorgeous, faster. Pretty mech, look how good you’re doing. I’m so close, lick around you fingers suck my node, tug your piercing let me see you overload, so slick I know you can.” Megatron overloaded screaming against Optimus’ valve, feeling the other mech’s overload with his hand over the back of his helm and convulsing around his digits.

                   They come down from their overloads gasping. Optimus recovers first and moves Megatron so he can see the mirrors, positioning him across his lap t so he has easy access to the mech’s valve if he lifts him and pulls him down and waiting until he began to stir again to slide his blunt digit inside the slick passage, making sure the warlord’s sharp claws hadn’t damaged anything. He lets Megatron buck on his servo, thumbed the other mechs node while his spike pressurizes. “So, so lovely. When this one is older I think you will carry for me. I’ve always wanted a large family. You’d be such a pretty carrier, with how swollen your midsection would get. With how fierce you would be in demanding I fill you up spark and frame. I don’t think I’ll be anywhere near as lovely.”

                      The other mech is moaning and rolling his hips, ready to race of his next overload if Optimus will let him. Instead, he spreads his fingers wide and then pulls them away entirely, smirking as Megaton arches, grinding his aft against Optimus’ spike. The Prime groans and watches in the mirror as Megatron takes stock of their position, making eye contact with him through the mirror.

                      Sitting with legs splayed with his back to Optimus’ chest, spike hard and pressed against his aft. Megatron draws his knees under him and grinds back against the spike until his pelvic span is above the Prime’s hips. Optimus grasp his own spike and holds the base. “Ride me?” he whispers.

                      Megatron rolls his hips and teases himself by letting the blue tip part the folds of his valve then letting it nudge his node and catch on the piercing’s ring. Primes other servo reaches up to tug the ring warningly. “Color, Megatron.” He asks louder.

                    “’reen. Just teasin’” Megatron answered Kaoni accent thick in his pleasure.

                   “Green here as well. Just making sure you weren’t tired.” Optimus replies, releasing the ring with a flick.

                  “Fraggin’ hedonist. Impatient, always after another ‘verload, more faster harder. Already ‘verloaded twice and you’re too desperate for more to play.” Optimus laughed. Kaon either dragged the letter ‘o’ out or swallowed it entirely. And only ever half pronounced it g’s. He was enjoying actually hearing the accent instead of the academic lexicon the mech had taught himself.

                 But the mech was sinking ever so slowly down his spike, teasingly slow, rolling his hips sensually. Optimus forces himself to relax and watches the other mech’s valve greedily over his shoulders, praising the mech as he rolls his hips and then, when the mech nudges his spike against his ceiling node, Optimus takes note of the node’s location while he lets Megatron ride him to his overload. When the mech slumps forward, he’s waiting. “So good, feeling you ripple around me. Love your valve, so sweet, so good. Should have tasted it.”

                He moves so he has he knees under him. “You aft is gorgeous when it gets up into the air. Love seeing your legs spread with your aft up.”

                Megatron was reeling- still eager to please and enjoy but for the love of all that’s holy. Prime frags him breathless, jamming his spike into his ceiling node, tugging and stroking his node. He overloads again and again, and when his spike gives up the ghost and wont pressurize any more Optimus rides Megatron until his final overload drives the menace offline.

                  Megatron follows as soon as his spike overloads. He wasn’t going to walk straight for days.


	5. Sun is Coming Up (O-why-o-why-o-why)

Megatron wakes sticky and pleasantly sore, tangled in blankets and blearily affectionate Prime, whose face is buried in his throat. The day is too young for the warlord to rise, and the berth too warm. Though he does gently move his carrying mate slightly to the side so he is no longer compressing the line in the his leg. Optimus’ face is gentled from its sternness in sleep, and his limbs sprawl loosely where they aren’t tangled with his own. Megatron, The Terror of Kaon is still and quiet, field soft as he strokes his mate’s wide shoulders. And awed when he can, just barely in his field and plating feel the pulsing spin of their newspark. It give him hope for the future just as it stirs dark memories.

A morning much like this one, but the quiet broken when Orion awakes to his internal alarm realizing he’ll soon miss his transport back to the archives. A kiss, sweet and teasing and a broad smile. A promise that Orion would join him at the Council meeting.

Nausea, heavy and potent and a visit to a pit doctor, long dead and forgotten. The bright, blueish teal of the newspark over his heavy red sparklight. Excitement. A meeting with Orion, but it was just early enough that the newspark was yet not fully viable and thus undetected to its sire.

The chambers below the council after the meeting, the sound the scent and feel of Orion’s terror and pain and then the terrible lack, the apathy when his optics powered again and he was sent away. Pain, pain like Megatron has never felt before or since as the sparklet and his own spark are torn into, and his frame is twisted and broken. The emotional pain and confusion from watching the matrix reformat his little librarian mate into a Prime and how not Orion he had teeked before he left the chambers, the one way diamond glass unnoticed.

The most shattering moment of his life, when the dark whisperings and doubts brought him to the conclusion that war must come.

The new Prime had met him, sent out into the rubble of Kaon. Megatron had been distraught, grieving but had believed for a moment that his Orion had returned. He had embraced the Prime but the confusion in his field had made the warlord balk. Who are you? He’d asked.

There had been more after that. There had been a war after that. And now, Optimus, who had asked Who are you in a voice that rang with naive for all its authority, was carrying his newspark. Had murmured lustful promises of making Megatron himself round with child when this one was old enough.

This mech, who’d fought for so long had brought the gladiator to his knees. Perhaps not the way their subordinates would like, Megatron muses, breaking himself out of his introspection with a gentle stroke across Optimus’ helm vent. He settles into a doze as he listens to the gentle whoosh of his mate’s vents.

When Megatron wakes again, Optimus is awake, and looking up at him as he slits his optics. The Prime leans forward kisses gently across the sleepy warlord’s scarred mouth plates. “Good morning,” Optimus whispers.

“Morning, Optimus. I trust you recharged well?” Megatron replies.

“Yes. Though a visit to the washrasks is in order.”

“I’m sure you remember where they are.” The warlord grumbles.

The Prime nods. “Join me?”

“I would have to be deactivated to decline.” Megatron grumbles, “Though I feel close. Perhaps my lovely mate will finally deign to teach me how to make the walk of shame more akin to a well fragged swagger?”

The Prime snorts. “The only difference is the shame, now up. I’m in need of a polish after we’re clean.”

-

Optimus had never known how intense Megatron could be. How amusing it was to bring the Terror of Kaon low and panting- how the gladiator would rise to every challenge and forge forward. It rings familiar somewhere in his spark. But he hadn’t known.

The steady presence of the burnished silver mech against his back under the spray of the washracks- solvent blissfully warm, and the cleansers gloriously neutral in scent where most of the human car soaps strong scents rolled the his tanks despite the reduction in nausea when Megatron had joined him.

The quiet gentleness that was emerging in the mech was equal to his ferocity, The Prime muses as he turns to kiss gently at the sensitive scars of Megatron’s face. He’s sated enough, but it no reason not to rile the warlord up, not to take an opportunity to see the mech panting for him. The worship in his optics is enough for lubricants to pool between his thighs.

Optimus knows his flaws. And he is a mech who loves to be adored, and here, with a mech who the only authority he has is given by choice only, not because he is Prime or commander, Optimus can and does now indulge. And Megatron is everything he could dream of. Fierce and gentle, kind and almost playfully cruel in his denials of his own desire and Optimus’. He is not only one thing but many.

A tingle settles around his spark and feedback fuzzes his vision as memories take hold. Megatron- no Megatronus, walking with a hand on his shoulder, the drifting smoke and ash and sparks of koan too dim for optics used to light, and little he could see heartbreaking. Poetry and philosophy, made even more charming by the rough appearance of the speaker. Soundwave’s bright lavender optics and scared faceplates in Megatron’s appartment- the appartment that the gladiators had shared after Soundwave had devoted himself to the cause.

Megatron and Orion.

He was remembering, integrating Orion’s memories.

A sudden stab of fear lances through him. If he remembers Orion, remembers what Orion knew, how much would be left of Optimus?


End file.
